Humanoid
by Slaughter Daughter
Summary: It's been months since Connor's attempt at suicide, things seem to be getting better but things aren't always as they seem, for when Connor's alone his heart takes a dark turn. Will Angel find out what his son is doing to himself before it's too late?
1. Blue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel, or any of it's characters.**

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**A/N: I know this is a really, **_**really**_** short chapter, but it's just to get things started off. And yeah… I don't know if you noticed but if you did and you were wondering… yes, both stories were named after Tokio Hotel songs. They just seemed to fit both stories so well… **

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"_Pink ribbon scars, that never forget… I've tried so hard to cleanse these regrets… My angel wings are bruised and restrained. My belly stings…" _

_-Today by Smashing Pumpkins_

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_Blue…_ Connor hated blue. The walls were blue. He supposed they were meant to resemble the sky, but Connor knew they didn't. He laid there most days gazing at the ceiling, trying to keep his eyes off of the dingy blue walls that he loathed so much. His father didn't pick out the color. Although… Connor wasn't sure if his dad knew that he hated blue. They were painted that pale color long before his father ever purchased this place… _Place,_ hotel, house… _Home? _Maybe… He wasn't sure yet.

Blue…

The ocean looked blue sometimes… Connor shivered at the thought. But mostly it was black… Black and it was dark… So dark, and it was cold. _So very cold… _He remembered sinking underneath its icy depths. His lungs filling with water, his throat burning… _Suffocating… _

He still felt like he was suffocating long after his father pulled him out of what would have been his early grave. Things were getting better, but today… He was alone. And whenever he was alone he plummeted right back into that chilling water. When he was alone, he was drowning… Only this time it wasn't the ocean he was drowning in. It was _life._

Life, he thought was killing him. The only time it wasn't was when his father was with him. His father… His father who loved him, who took care of him… His father that saved his life. His father… The only reason he continued to live. He couldn't hurt Angel. Wouldn't allow himself to. If he died, he knew, Angel couldn't handle it. Couldn't live with it… With the guilt that he would surely pin on himself, all the while knowing full well, that if Connor took his own life, it wouldn't be because of Angel. No… He was the one he breathed for. Not for anyone else.

Months had gone by since that fateful night. A night that changed everything. He wanted to die, and he was going to. Nobody wanted him, nobody loved him, or so he thought. But he now knew Angel loved him, but he also knew that he didn't deserve that love. And although he wanted it, he found himself pushing it away sometimes.

But Angel was gone today…

_Gone…_

He would come back, but that still didn't change the ache Connor felt as he stood over the bathroom sink, hollow tears in his eyes… His _blue_ eyes…

_Blue…_

Connor had blue walls, blue eyes, and now blood red wrists… A razor lay stained in the sink, forgotten. But only for a little while, for it would be used once again as soon as he was left all by his lonesome.

Alone… It hurt to be alone. It hurt so much, and nobody even knew how much it did hurt Connor, for his slit wrists would always heal before anyone ever saw.

And the blood… Well it would simply wash away… flushed out through sink, down the drain, and into the sewer. The sewer where his father traveled, but never seemed to figure out why the dark and filthy tunnels smelled like his child's blood.

He'd done this a hundred times… Maybe more… It was always the same. Even in Quor'toth only there, when he did it his fath- no. _He _knew. And _he_ didn't care. He never did.

Connor gripped the sink, as more blood flowed from his pale flesh. He felt better now. Calm. Relief. Peace… Letting all his pain escape through a few simple cuts. Cuts that no one would ever notice. He wouldn't let them.

Inhaling deeply, he could smell it, could almost taste it. The iron. Slowly stripping himself of his clothing, he turned on the shower.

Stepping inside, he turned the hot water as high as the knob would allow of him. Steam was everywhere. Letting the scorching water wash over his face like rain, Connor cried. As he always did on days like this one. He had good ones, sure. But today, today was one of the awful ones, felt like worse than the last one. His good days stayed the same, but his bad ones, they just seemed to be getting worse, and worse. And he wasn't sure what to do about it, so he did the only thing he knew how. And even that didn't last as long as it used to…

He felt dirty, so filthy… He was a sinner, he was a fallen angel, not even that… He was a demon, but he was human… He was nothing, he was something. To Angel he was everything. But Connor, he still didn't know that, not entirely at any rate. Falling to his knees on the shower floor, he cried, and he cried, watching with blurry vision as his blood slithered down the drain, and his once gashes slowly began to scar over, and he knew that all proof of his weakness would surely fade away.

It would vanish, only to resurface on another day… A day like this one…


	2. Morning After

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, and if you think I do then… well something is obviously wrong with you -.-**

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The sun leaked through the curtains of Connor's room, eyelids fluttering open, it shined directly on him. He didn't like the sun. He loved the warm rays, yes. But the sun was evil in his mind. It existed to cleanse the world of vampires, and although Connor used to view this as a justice for humanity, he also resented the sun for this. The sun could burn his father, could kill him… Then Connor would truly be all alone.

_No…_ Connor thought. That wasn't going to happen. Angel promised him. He promised he wouldn't leave him. Glancing over at the little digital clock on the nightstand Connor realized that it was noon. Throwing off the blanket, he grabbed his gray long sleeved shirt off of the floor. Slipping it on, he stared at the sleeves critically, seemingly satisfied that they were covering all of his scars.

Sitting back on the mattress, and sliding on his sneakers, he idly contemplated his actions the night before. He felt guilty, though nobody knew of his unhealthy release of pain, he knew. And he knew that his dad would be disappointed in him, and that was something he just couldn't handle. But he needed it… He needed to do it, and nobody else would understand.

He wasn't angry anymore. He was born and raised to be angry, force fed lies, hate, rage, violence, self-loathing… He was fed all of it, and it was intensified ten folds by the toxic, and vicious environment that was Quor'toth. He remembered what is was like for him when he first punched his way through that portal. The portal itself was terrifying, but of course being Connor he didn't show it. It twisted, and turned, and shook, and he couldn't feel anything, nothing was solid, nothing to grab onto. He could've been in there for hours, or merely seconds. He didn't know.

And then he was out. He escaped. And it was then that he saw him. He knew it was him, it just had to be. It was the scent, it was safe, and it was love. But he couldn't feel love, couldn't receive it then. And so he attacked. He faced off with this 'demon' that was supposed to hate him, was supposed to want to slaughter him. But then he looked into this demon's eyes, the demon with the face of an angel, and the demon spoke.

"_Wait! You don't have to do this, son!"_

The vampire had love in his eyes, mixed with pleading… And hope… It was then that Connor faltered. Then he did something that even to this day he was still ashamed of.

He ran…

But he would have gone back, at least he thought he would've. But Holtz ruined everything… He lied, he deceived the one he called 'son'. He made Connor believe him. He committed the very act he had warned Connor against countless nights in Quor'toth when all the running, the pain of numerous broken bones, lacerations, burnt flesh, and emotional and physical exhaustion had taken it's toll on him. Worst of all he abandoned Connor, and that was something that Connor just couldn't forgive.

He could forgive a lot of things, but that just wasn't one of them. And although he loved Angel, he still held some resentment towards him for never rescuing him through all those empty years of hell. He remembered hiding underneath the old black tree of blood, two servekken demons were chasing after him, he was only three and had become separated from Holtz. He was so scared, he was shaking head to toe, trying desperately to calm his haggard breathing. And all that he wished for was his father, his _real _father to come and save him.

But he never did.

And he prayed silently for the same thing each, and every night. Always silently though, so 'father' wouldn't hear. He would surely punish Connor for such wicked thoughts. But Connor knew now that they weren't wicked, and although he still viewed himself that way sometimes, for the most part he knew he wasn't. And as the time went on Connor grew older. He lost hope. And in turn he lost faith in the god that 'father' spoke of with such passion. 'Father' said that god sent them there, sent them to that horrid place for a reason. But why? Why would god do something so very cruel to Connor when he was only a mere infant? What had Connor ever done to deserve the sentence he received?

He truly didn't know. Shaking his head, as if to shake away every chilling thought he had of that wretched place, he loosely tied his shoes, and stood, quietly making his way over to the door, he sighed. With his hand on the doorknob, and his forehead leaned against the dark wood of the door, he closed his eyes.

This was always the hardest part after he committed what he knew to be a selfish act. He had to hide it. Had to conceal his scars, the ones on the outside, and especially the still festering and bleeding wounds that lurked within.

But he wasn't lying, he conceded. He was merely… Withholding the truth.

Nodding, he pulled open the door, determined to keep the hurt he hid so very well, in check. Stepping out, he filled his lungs with one more calming breath before he set his jaw, and silently marched down the stairs, all the while trying to mask something completely forlorn behind his still fragile blue eyes.

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Connor shivered in his seat at the kitchen counter. It was always cold at the Hyperion, but it was now the dead of winter, so it was especially freezing. He absently picked at his bacon and toast. Not really hungry. He mostly faked eating whenever his father was around, although he suspected that Angel knew this, he never said anything, he would just stand there with _the look._

Connor hated that look. It was always a cross between deep concern, and mild disapproval. He came to expect it, but he knew he would never become used to it.

Feeling a presence behind him, he sighed. "Hey Spike…" He said lightly, taking a small bite of toast. "Where's dad?" He asked as Spike grabbed a glass of blood from the fridge.

"He's with a client. He should be back 'round… four or so…" Spike said, heating up the tall glass.

Taking a seat atop the counter, Spike eyed Connor critically.

Feeling uncomfortable underneath the penetrating gaze, Connor shifted nervously, and downcast his eyes.

Spike showed up no more than two months ago. It was already hard for Connor to grasp the concept of one vampire with a soul, let alone two. So Connor didn't take to Spike right away. Avoided him if he could. But now he'd grown accustom to the bleach blonde. He was the complete opposite of his father, but maybe that's why Connor appreciated his presence. Well, for the most part he did. The searing gaze he could do without.

"You look tired…" Spike finally commented as he took his now warm glass of blood from the microwave.

Connor merely shrugged. He didn't talk a lot, he never did before, and he didn't think it should be any different now just because he was living with his father again.

"You know you really need to eat more." Spike said, after draining his glass.

Connor raised one eyebrow at this and asked; "Why?"

Spike sighed. "Well, for one thing your too bloody thin." Taking a seat beside Connor he gave him another look. "And you know how that ponce you have as a father worries endlessly about you."

Connor frowned at this. He knew yes. He wish he didn't, but he did.

Sighing, he pushed his plate away. Resting his elbows on the table, and his hands in his hair, he whispered a faint; "_I know…_"

Laying his hand on Connor's bony shoulder Spike said; "You know if you need to, you can talk to me about it."

"About what?" Connor asked timidly, feigning ignorance.

"About why your always depressed."

"What do you mean? I'm fine." Connor lied with such preciseness that if Spike didn't know him better, he would have believed him.

"No, your not." Spike stated, his gaze hard. "I know this isn't just your everyday brooding going on. Something is wrong, I know it is, don't tell me it's not. Now you don't _have_ to tell me what it is. But if you ever feel like you need to tell somebody, and you don't want your dad to know, I'll be here."

Swallowing hard, Connor nodded. "I'm fine…" He repeated from earlier.

Then at receiving another skeptical look from the blonde vampire, looked into his eyes and said; "_If…_ I need to talk," He said emphasizing the 'if'. "I'll let you know."

Spike nodded, and stood. Half way through the door he turned back to Connor, his eyes sincere, and said; "Your scars may fade, but the mark of the memories will always be there." And then he left. Connor froze at these words, letting them slowly sink in. Could he know? No. He couldn't… Could he? Connor sat there silently his mind unnerving itself as he thought, terrified;

_Oh, god… He knows…_

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**A/N: Does Spike know? Hmmm… Well you'll just have to read and find out. And yes more Spike! I love both him and Connor so very much :} Now I'm trying to take this story a little slower through the plot than my last one. And I think this one will be longer than my last as well. **

**Also if you recall Connor finally admitted that he loved his father, and that Holtz was not his father, but… When you think of Connor at least for me, he really doesn't seem like the type to just lay his emotions out on the table, ya know? So… He's going to be more Connor-Like in this one, though I think he was kind of in 'Monsoon' but in Monsoon he was having a breakdown so I think it was understandable that he was finally speaking his feelings.**

**But in Humanoid Connor knows that he loves his father, but still struggles with resentful, and distrustful feelings towards him every now and then. And although he tries not to he still sometimes views Holtz as his adoptive father. **

**And sorry for the freakishly long author notes -.-**


	3. Soulless

**DISCLAIMED IT!!!!!!!!!!!! .**

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"You think he needs therapy?" Connor heard Angel ask Fred, as he listened to the conversation about him from the second floor.

"Well, quite frankly Angel yes… I know you love your son, and you don't want to believe that something's wrong, but… not to sound out of place or anything, but… have you noticed the way he walks around here? He's always so quiet, and he hardly ever comes in contact with people. And… we can't forget about the ocean incident…" Fred paused, then added; "The second one I mean…"

"I agree with Fred on this one, mate. Connor is depressed, if he wasn't he wouldn't have tried to off himself all those months ago, you know it, I know it, we all know it, and your lying to yourself if you think any differently." Spike finished, his usual mocking tone he used when speaking to his grandsire completely gone.

Connor waited for his father's reply, lying on his stomach with his ear pressed against the cold floor. _Therapy… _He'd heard the word before on television. He knew what it meant. They were for crazy people. But… Connor wasn't crazy… He was just… _Confused… _Was the phrase he settled was pulled out of his thoughts by Angel's afflicted voice.

"Do you… do you really think it's gotten that bad?…"

"I'm sorry…" Fred said with empathy. "But yes…"

He heard his father sigh. And even from his spot on the second level, he could still make out the subtle hint of internal pain, and worry he was trying to hide. Connor supposed that's where he had gotten it from. Though he thought he hid his emotions far better than Angel did. But maybe that was just his pride speaking? He wasn't sure.

Sighing, he picked himself up off of the floor. He was tired of eavesdropping on people who were constantly talking about him. Always _about_ him. Never _to_ him. He hated that. Why could they never speak these things to his face? He wanted to know more than anything. Especially Angel. He said that he was going to be honest with Connor. That this time was going to be different.

"_No more lies…"_ He had said. No more lies… And no more secrets. Connor's shoulders slumped at this thought. He'd been lying, and keeping secrets since he'd been back. He knew that what his father said applied to both of them, though Connor knew when Angel was speaking he was mainly setting this system up for himself.

And now…

Connor of all people, was the one to break this new found trust that he and Angel had shakily forged. But then again, he was the one to break it last time. _No that was fath- him… _He thought, _It was his fault…_

Trying to fight away the bitterness that was clawing its way into his chest, he laid down on his bed. A bed he didn't deserve, he thought. The bitterness, and loathing now directed towards himself.

Rolling over on his back he draped his arm across his eyes. _I need it…_ He weakly thought, his heart rate, and breathing both picking up in speed. _No… He's here… It's wrong…_ He tried to convince himself, tried to stop the urge for his self-harming vice.

His hand involuntary began to twitch, as he harshly gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his nerves completely unraveling. _Just breathe… Just breathe… _He tried to tell himself, but couldn't, as all of his thoughts became jumbled, and strung together.

He couldn't stand it. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Couldn't speak. He didn't even want to open his eyes… He just wanted it to go away…

What was wrong with him? Was he cursed to feel this way his entire life? Was he damned? Was this his hell? Questions scattering across the forefront of his mind, he bit down on his cheek so hard, it began to bleed.

_God…_ It was that smell again, but this time he could taste it too. He had that craving again, and he knew… One of two things would happen. Either he would take his sorrow out on himself, or… He could sneak out and take it out on some unsuspecting demon.

Connor Angel simply wanted to carve up his arms, enjoying in the slight feel of tranquility and relief, then accept the ominous guilt later.

The Destroyer on the other hand. _He ached… _He ached to find a prey that he could toy with, that he could maim, and fight for various hours on end until finally he would give the life ending blow, with absolutely no guilt or remorse afterwards.

After several intense minutes of back and forth like a virtual game of ping pong being played in his head, the Destroyer won, completely forcing Connor Angel into submission.

Now on his feet, Connor made his way to the window. Silently lifting it open, he took a last look at the faded blue walls, his eyes narrowed, then he jumped through the frame, changing directions to land on his feet just before he hit the ground.

Taking off at his full superhuman speed, he spared one last quick glance at the hotel before he took a turn down a back alley and it disappeared from his view.

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Connor didn't care.

He was silently, stealthily even, walking through deserted alley, after alley searching for his prey, which… Was nowhere to be found. Nothing was, and it annoyed the hell out of him.

Here he was, sneaking out of his father's house in the middle of the night to hunt demons, and just his luck, none were out.

He was intently sneaking out into what Angel said to be a 'dangerous world' Connor laughed at this thought, though there was no humor to it. He was surely worrying his father, if not completely infuriating him. Either way it was a lose, lose situation. If Angel was worried, then Connor would feel guilty, and wicked for upsetting his father this way, but if Angel was angry…

Well he didn't want to think about it. One of the few times Connor had seen Angel angry at him was when he came back from his little adventure under the sea. Connor's body involuntarily shuddered at the memory, and the thought of what he had done.

But Connor didn't care…

He couldn't right now. Couldn't afford to. He would deal with whatever consequences were handed to him when the time came. But now…

No. He didn't care.

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"Daddy dearest will be mad at the ity bity boy for getting into such trouble…" One of the vampires to the right taunted, only proving to enrage Connor further, though he hid it well.

This is what he lived for. This was his purpose. He was raised, taught, and pushed into this his whole life. And he loved it. He loved the feeling, the rush, the adrenalin coursing through his veins, accelerating his heartbeat.

He smiled as he pushed a stake through another vampire's chest. It started out with thirteen. Now there were only two. He saved the biggest for last. The ones that would fight the most. He wanted a struggle, he craved it. It had been so long since he had done this. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Who's up first?" Connor asked with a smirk. Then seeing the two vampires glance at each other, he knew.

And just as he expected, they both lunged themselves at him at the same time.

Sidestepping them both, he spun, then kicked the smaller of the two. The vampire went sailing into the concrete wall with a loud thud.

Turning his attention towards the other vampire, he waited for him to move closer, as the vampire attempted to kick Connor in the gut. Catching the leg before it came in contact with him, Connor twisted it, then used it to sling the vampire to the ground.

Readying his stake as the smaller vamp made his way towards Connor, Connor waited, appearing as though he wasn't paying attention to the vampire behind him. He was still, until he sensed the vampire mere inches from him doing what he knew to be preparing to bite down onto his neck. Then turning, he swiftly plunged the stake into its heart, his smirk widening as it burst to dust around his hand.

Now facing the other vamp, he saw fear on its face, could even smell it. The fear…

Inhaling deeply, he stood, silently waiting for what he knew to be the more violent, and dominate of all the vampires he'd staked that night.

And the vampire didn't disappoint his expectations. Quickly coming at him with a feral growl. Matching the vampire's viciousness, and then some, Connor caught the vampire by the throat as its fist came in contact with his stomach. Handling the pain like it was nothing, Connor pinned the vamp against the wall.

Bringing his fist back, he hit the vamp repeatedly with all of his strength. The vampire's demonic face now covered in blood, Connor shoved it into the concrete wall several times, actually breaking away some of the concrete as he did so.

Finally the vampire moaned in pain, then let his 'game face' slip as he sagged to the ground, Connor's hand still firmly at his throat.

His eyes glanced upwards as Connor brought the stake at the ready. "You know… we're not so different, you and me." The vampire spoke with a resigned voice, as if he knew he was about to die, but didn't really seem to care.

Connor's smirk fell, his brow now knitted together. Connor didn't say anything, so the vampire took this as and invitation to continue. "I see how you enjoy it… enjoy all of this… the slaughter… because really, that's what this was, was a slaughter, and you knew that coming in. But I see there's a reason. I can sense all this pain… it emanates off you for miles… all that thick, weak _guilt…_ it's infesting inside your soul… a soul that you don't necessarily have to have."

"_What?…_" Connor finally asked, his eyes unsure.

"I was just like you once… I was so weak, so heartbroken, nothing I did was right, I couldn't fix anything… but then… this girl came along, offered me a gift she said. She said it would all just go away… and now, here I am telling you that I can make _everything_, and I do mean everything, go away… every heartache, every pain, every guilt ridden thought, I can take it all away… all you have to do is let me…" The vampire finished, with what Connor saw to be actual sincerity in his now hazel eyes.

Connor blinked his eyes several times, his body rigid the whole time the vampire was speaking. Why hasn't he killed this thing yet? He wondered, biting the inside of his lip. He should do it now, but… There was something about it. It was right, it was like Connor, he could sense it. No. _No!_ He was nothing like this soulless thing.

His grip tightening, he suddenly, but forcefully stabbed the stake through the vampire's chest. But this time as he did, he felt remorse for it…

Connor Angel crawled his way back up, repressing the Destroyer as he did so. And he was terrified. Had he… Had he actually considered the vampire's offer? No… He would never… Would he? His body shaking he slid down the wall. Was he that fucked up? He wondered. Was he so fucked up, that he would actually, to escape all the anguish he felt inside, willingly give away his soul? _No… no… no… no…_

Hurriedly standing, he ran as fast as he could, desperately wanting, despite the fact that he was probably beyond furious, to get home to his father, where he knew everything would be okay, at least for a moment it would… Until the next time this happened, and Connor completely shattered…

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**A/N: I know some people wanted more Angel/Connor moments, but I really wanted this chapter to be solely about Connor. That's really how I want the fic to be. I really want to get inside of Connor's head. But don't worry there will be plenty of father son moments too :} And this was really kinda like my first time writing a action scene… well it wasn't like a hardcore action scene, but I hope I did okay… (?)**


	4. Disease

**I DISCLAIM IT!!! ~.~**

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**A/N: Sorry it kinda took me a little while to update… been struggling to get inspired to write lately. I hope this makes up for that though ;} enjoy!**

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Connor was shaking, his mind was feeling like it was going to collapse, as he sat crying, huddled underneath the desk in his father's office, completely retreating into himself. Gripping his knees almost painfully tight, his face buried in his legs, his mop of hair the closest thing anyone could see to his beautiful eyes. He sobbed harder, though he tried to keep it quiet, and he didn't know why…

They were gone.

They all were…

He'd ran as fast as his body would allow of him, desperately needing to make it back to the place that at least remotely made some sense to him, and find the one person that knew, if only slightly what Connor felt.

But that was okay if Angel didn't get it. Because even if Angel didn't understand what was bothering Connor, what was flowing through his deranged soul, he knew that something was. And Connor knew that he would try whatever he could to mend the destruction that was Connor's mind.

_Destruction…_

_Devastate…_

_Destroy…_

That was all he was good for. He could mangle, he could slash, he could hack, he could kill… That's all he ever did. He could make things bleed, yes. But he couldn't make them stop. That didn't keep him from trying, even though he knew in his heart that it was futile to attempt such a thing. He was the Destroyer, not an angel…

Not the Angel he so desperately needed right now. The one who could fix it. The one who could make it go away if only for a little while.

But no one was there…

He hoped they were looking for him, but he could never really be sure.

He wasn't worth the time if they were. Though that didn't stop his selfish need to hope that they were. But that's all he had. Was hope… That's all he ever had. And slowly he was losing even that…

He let out another strangled cry, his body, and soul becoming more, and more exhausted with each sound he made, and each heartbreaking sound could make the coldest of man's, heart ache with despair at this scene.

"Connor!" He heard a voice yell his name, and as soon as heard it, he knew who it belonged to. But he didn't respond, only hugging himself tighter, and weeping more heavily than before.

He soon felt frantic, and cold hands searching his body for unseen injuries. And normally he would've protested, would have shrugged off the cold, but caring touch, but found that tonight, he didn't have the strength, as he merely shook his head, face still hidden shamefully behind his trembling legs.

"Connor, what happened?" Angel demanded softly. And Connor could feel those brown eyes burning into him like small fires. He shook his head again, allowing another cry to escape his shaking form.

"Son, you need to come out from there…" Angel said as gently as he could, the worry evident in his words. And the frown he'd been wearing since first discovering Connor's absence from his room deepened at seeing his boy shake his head yet again, that seeming to be the only thing he could do at the moment.

It was torture.

It was torture for Angel to just sit there and watch as his son swiftly fell to pieces, and Angel not knowing what to do about it, just stared, his eyes pained, and uncertain.

"Where were you?…" Angel finally whispered the question, trying to keep the hurt from his voice, but it was to no avail, for Connor knew all to well about hurting, and hiding the pain.

Connor slowly lifted his head up, only a few inches from where he'd been previously hiding it. Turning to look at his father ever so slightly, his heart felt like it dropped down into his stomach. He could see it… He could see the worry so clearly written over Angel's features. He could see the questions that he knew Angel needed answered, the disappointment at Connor's leaving, and also… The pain of it too. It was almost like…

Connor's eyes widened in realization. He shook his head for what felt like the hundredth time that night, and lifted it all the way staring Angel in the eyes in what he hoped to be a loving way, though he had a feeling it looked more helpless than anything else, as Angel's brow furrowed and he quickly wrapped one arm around Connor's waist, and put the other beneath his now limp legs, pulling him out from under the desk, then quickly standing, carrying Connor through the office door, and shortly after, what Connor assumed were the stairs.

He didn't know, nor did he care, as he stared up at his father, his face wet, and tear stained, his blue eyes bloodshot and puffy. He gripped onto him as tightly as his worn out body would let him, his fingers twisting in the soft material of his father's black silk shirt.

Letting his head fall onto Angel's shoulder, he vaguely felt Angel try to set him down on what he thought was his bed, but he wouldn't relax his hold on the vampire, his sobs breaking loose yet again, and was grateful when the vampire finally got the hint and stopped his efforts to release Connor, as he sat himself down on the bed, his back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, Connor lying in his lap.

Angel held Connor silently as he cried, his eyes drifting down to stare worriedly at his son, at a complete loss at what to do, not knowing what the problem was. He sighed shakily as Connor finally quieted down, after what seemed to be hours.

"Connor?…"

"_No…_" Was Connor's whispered reply, silent tears streaming down his face, as he stared blankly at the blue walls, his eyes betraying a hint of disdain as they lingered on them. He wouldn't talk about it. He was too ashamed to.

Would he have done it? Was the question he kept asking himself, as his eyes finally became tired of looking at that putrid color, that was at the moment, making him feel sick to his stomach. He was afraid of the answer. He wanted to be free of this burden. This burden of guilt he so unwillingly carried, but he didn't deserve to be, he knew. Nobody did… The only person who in his eyes should, was his father…

His father who was still staring at him, looking like he was about to have a heart attack, if his heart could actually beat that is, Connor was sure that he would. He hated that he made Angel feel this way. He could practically see the wheels turning in his father's head, as countless scenarios of what happened tonight crossed his mind, Angel always assuming the worst of every situation.

He peered up at him, not knowing what to say, his throat feeling raw, and dry from his breakdown. So he did the only thing he knew to do, he simply stared.

"Tell me what's wrong…" Angel sounded desperate now, his brown orbs showing a helplessness that Connor had never seen before.

Swallowing hard, he blinked away a few tears, opening then closing his mouth several times before he was finally able to speak. "Something's b-broken in me…" His voice was so quiet, and soft, no ordinary person would have heard him, but he knew Angel did, as his jaw tightened, and he hugged Connor tighter.

"_I want it to go away…_" Connor whimpered, shutting his eyes tight. "He said he could make it go away… I-I think I was going to l-let him…"

"I know, son… I know…" Angel soothed, his mind reeling with what his child was saying, not fully understanding, but knowing enough to want to severely torture the son of a bitch that devastated his son this much.

"I considered it…" Connor continued in his still deathly low tone. "I considered giving up my soul… _my soul… _for this selfish need to be free of this disease…"

"Connor, what are you talking about? What disease?" Angel asked, utterly, and completely confused.

"_Me…_" Connor said, voice cracking. "Me…"

Letting his head fall back onto Angel's shoulder yet again, he finally accepted what he knew would be a long, and tear filled night. His confession still hanging in the air, as he felt Angel begin to rock him, and tell him that he was wrong that Connor was 'perfect' that he was a 'miracle' and there was no way that he could _ever _even remotely be considered a disease, and that Angel loved him with everything he had, and always would no matter what he did in the past, or would do in the future.

But these were lies. Lies Connor knew Angel said to comfort him. But they were beautiful lies, lies that Connor would give anything to be true.

* * *

They'd sat like that for hours. Angel gently rocking Connor, until eventually, after Connor settled down some, he felt his son go completely limp in his arms, and finally got the nerve to look down and find that Connor had fallen asleep.

After setting Connor down lightly on the bed, and covering him up, Angel pulled up an armchair and sat it facing his son.

He gazed at Connor's sleeping form, noting the way his face smoothed out, and he looked at ease, despite the tell, tell traces of crying on his pale features. He watched contemplatively as he son's chest heaved up and down with his even breathing, and listened as his heart thudded in his chest to a calm rhythmic beat.

As he sat there just watching his child looking peaceful, he was reminded of when Connor was only a baby, and he slept in a similar manner.

But things had drastically changed since then.

Angel was devastated once the reality hit him that he missed out on his son's entire childhood. Even more so when he found out that Connor never even _had_ a childhood. He came crashing through that portal, confused, mistrusting, angry, carrying the weight of a mad man's century old revenge on his shoulders.

But things had changed since that day. It had been almost a year, nine months to be exact. And Angel knew that Connor was still confused, and still didn't fully trust him, but they were making progress. There was still a chance that Angel could make things right. And he would try his damnedest to make sure that he did. Because Connor was so fragile… So broken, and held so much pain, and Angel knew that Connor hadn't shared all of it with him yet. And Connor needed him. He needed his father, whether Connor knew this for himself or not was still undetermined, but Angel would do everything he could to be there for him.

It pained him to see the way his son thought of himself. A 'disease' Connor called himself. Running his hands over his face, Angel sighed. He never thought having a child would be this hard. Connor was his whole world since the moment he was born, or unborn as the case was… He'd never loved anything, or anyone so much, as he did his baby boy. He remembered the way Connor's eyes would light up when he held him, and the adorable way his son would smile, the gentle, yet firm grip he had at only a few months old. The soft sound of his little laughter.

He remembered everything… Every little detail of everything his infant son ever did. Right down to the soul wrenching night when he was so mercilessly taken from him.

He didn't kill Holtz, and Connor now knew that now. But that didn't stop Angel from wishing he had. Holtz deserved so much pain for what he did to Connor. Angel was different then. Yes, he killed Holtz family, he'd never denied that, he did many other terrible things that he would give anything to take back, but he couldn't. He couldn't change the past. And Holtz knew that, and he knew that Angel had a soul, but he still took the most important thing in his life away from him. The only thing that ever mattered.

Connor was different now. He was so different from the savage boy that tried to kill him, that sunk him to the bottom of the dark, cold sea. He understood now that things weren't always based on 'good' and 'evil'. He knew that Angel was a vampire, but it seemed as though he'd finally begun to accept that fact.

But Connor was sinking. He was falling so deep into a state of consuming depression, and Angel hated himself for not realizing it sooner. He'd tried so hard to push away thoughts of Connor the night he'd tried to drown himself. The image of his miracle barely breathing, an inch within his life, gasping, and spitting out mouth full's of water from his precious lungs, still haunted his dreams at night. And he couldn't shake the feeling that he drove Connor to his breaking point. It was written in plain bold text considering the way that Connor had chosen to end it.

He was a failure as a father, he knew this. Darla would be so disappointed in him if she knew what he let happen. She would probably shove him into the light of day if she were still around.

Relaxing into the armchair slightly, he crossed his arms over his chest. He missed Darla. It was strange… Centuries of reeking havoc with his mate, and he couldn't love her. He had no soul, it just wasn't in his nature. But then he was cursed with his conscience, though now he viewed it more of a blessing than a curse. And suddenly he began to have affection for the most vicious female vampire he'd ever known. But she didn't want him anymore. She couldn't stand him for his filthy soul.

He'd tried to keep going. Tried to go back to being Angelus; The Scourge of Europe. But he couldn't. He couldn't keep killing all those innocent people. He felt it then. He felt every single piercing scream, every broken bone, every heinous crime he'd ever committed, and he couldn't go on being that.

But then she was back. She was human, and he had to protect her. He loved her he knew this now, and he knew that she loved him too. After all, they were soul mates. They understood each other perfectly, they each knew of the guilt, and what it could do to you. Buffy, Cordy, he loved them both, yes. But neither one understood. He had a bond with Darla, and every time he gazed upon their son, he was reminded of that bond, and of her last words. _"This baby is the only good thing we ever did together, the only thing… make sure he knows that…"_

He would. He would keep his promise to his love, and make sure that their precious miracle knew that, no matter what mistakes he made, he would be loved, and despite what years of suffering in a hell dimension could do to a person, he was good. And _nothing_ can change that. Connor was destined for great things, he could feel it, and it was high time that Connor finally realized it as well.

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**A/N: I thought I'd add a little bit of insight to what Angel's feelings are in this chapter. Tell me whatcha think? And I love Angel/Darla together, I seriously almost cried when Darla was turned again. It pissed me off . Anyway… never liked Buffy… And Cordy… again can't look at her the same way since she raped Connor. So… she's still forever stuck on the 'higher plain' and I plan to make it where Angel knows, and excepts this. So yeah… there we go! ^-^ Reviews make me happy!!**


	5. Shopping trauma

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of it's characters.**

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**A/N: So… I signed up for Twisting the Hellmouth. I have the same name on there as I do here, just without the dots. Yet to post a story though, maybe I will once this is done. I read a pretty good book this weekend. (yes I do like to make book recommendations) it's called: 'A Certain Slant Of Light' I thought it was going to be creepy because they were both spirits who possess two teenagers bodies, but it really wasn't. Though it had a little bit of graphicness, so if your say… under 14 you probably shouldn't read… Anyway… sorry to waste your time. Read on!**

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Connor awoke the next morning with a start, when Angel began to roughly shake his shoulders. He was suddenly pulled out of his nightmare, not realizing it was only a dream at first, he gasped as he blinked away the tears stinging in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked, his hands still holding a firm grasp on Connor's shoulders, keeping him there as if he were afraid the boy would float away from him.

"I… don't know…" Connor said distractedly, his eyes moving about the room, taking in all the details as if to make sure he were really there.

Angel pulled Connor to his chest, hugging him tightly. Leaving Connor a little taken aback by the sudden need his father seemed to have for the comfort, but he didn't complain, instead relaxing into the embrace, his eyes closed, but he quickly snapped them back open once the images from his nightmare replayed themselves behind his lids, and unknowingly to him he gave a slight whimper, making Angel pull back and check him for invisible injuries.

"Quit…" Connor said half-heartedly, swatting pathetically at Angel's hands.

Angel frowned. "What was your nightmare about?"

Connor bowed his head, and sighed. "It was about different things…" He said vaguely.

"Care to elaborate?…" Angel said, lifting up Connor's chin.

Angel wasn't going to let up on this, Connor could tell. He hunched his shoulders dejectedly then spoke quietly.

"At first I was back in Quor'toth… Holtz was there…" Connor paused, unsure of whether he should truly tell his father of the twisted things that snuck they're way into his subconscious.

"_And?…_" Angel pressed.

"And_… _he was angry with me… like usual… kept yelling at me, lecturing me on evil… and I was…" Connor paused again, this time to take a deep breath, then continued. "I couldn't move, and I was on the ground… crying…"

Connor leaned back against the headboard, allowing his eyes to flutter closed as he recalled the horrors in his minds eye.

"It changed then… and I was standing on the docks near the ocean," Angel went slightly rigid at this, Connor knew, he couldn't see Angel, but he could feel his sudden stillness. "I was staring at the sky, there were no stars… I hate that… and when I finally looked down there was a steel coffin sinking in the water… I saw you in it… I-I tried to pull you out… tried to keep you from sinking down further… but I couldn't, then finally as I jumped in the water it wasn't you inside the quiet box anymore… it was me… and I watched myself drowning inside of that box, my other self being dragged down with it… and then… I… woke up…" He finished, his arms now crossed over his chest.

"That wasn't your fault Connor, you know that."

"Sure, sure…" He said meekly, feeling as though if he weren't afraid of another nightmare he would surely crash into a coma-like sleep.

"It wasn't." Angel insisted. Connor merely nodded. He learned that when it came to matters like this, it was far easier to agree with his father, rather than appose him. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that Angel was stubborn.

Connor felt his father run his fingers through his hair, he involuntarily flinched away from the contact, and immediately regretted the action as he could practically feel Angel's disappointment as the vampire quickly pulled his hand away.

He slowly opened his eyes, his heart aching at the look on Angel's face. Angel looked as though his heart had been stomped on by a horde of rampaging demons. Which the vampire quickly tried to conceal once he realized Connor was watching.

"I'm sorry…" Connor whispered the apology shamefully, letting his head drop down, his chin touching his chest.

"Son, you have nothing to be sorry for." Angel assured, which made Connor feel all the more worse about it.

"_Okay…_"

* * *

"I don't want to." Connor said firmly, as Angel handed Fred his heavily guarded credit card.

"Well that's too bad. You need new clothes." Angel said giving Connor one of his parental looks.

Connor huffed, crossing his arms defiantly, as Fred merely stood in-between the father and son watching while fidgeting nervously.

After several minutes of Connor glaring, and Angel simply looking stern, Connor finally relented. Letting out a puff of breath, he said a agitated 'fine' and followed Fred out of the door, glancing back briefly to see Angel smile at them as they walked out.

* * *

"Would you like to try this pair on?" Fred asked, holding up pair of what appeared to be skinny fitting jeans. Connor gave a grimace when he saw them. He had a feeling that if he were to wear them and he had to spar with an opponent they would surely split in two.

Seeing his look, Fred quickly put them away. They'd been at this for hours now, and only had two shirts, and one pair of pants to show for it. She sighed. She was no Cordy no matter how hard she tried to fill her shoes.

"Do you just want to look for yourself?" Fred asked sweetly. And Connor couldn't for the life of him understand why she was always so nice to him after everything that he'd done. He supposed that maybe she had gotten all her rage out on him the night Angel came back.

"Not really…"

Fred huffed. "Well, what type of clothing do you like?"

Connor shrugged. "I dunno… what I'm wearing?…"

He shifted uncomfortably when Fred eyed his outfit. He was wearing black cargo pants, old black and white converse sneakers, a plain dark gray t-shirt, and a black hoddie.

"Hmmm… okay… I think I have an idea…"

Following behind Fred like a brooding puppy, Connor watched as she plucked various black, gray, and brown shirts off of shelves, grabbing some jeans as well.

He didn't like the mall. Too many people. He hated huge crowds of people. It was always so loud with the mixture of music coming from each store. Each one contradicting the next. He sighed. He wanted to go home. He _longed_ to be back home in his bed where everything was quiet, though now that he thought about it, the quiet was starting to get to him too.

After finally getting the idea of what types of clothing Connor liked, Fred began picking out article, after article. Giving Connor her best doe-eyed look when he refused to try anything on, but he soon realized that their was not one person on this earth that could deny Fred whatever she wanted them to do when she flashed them those eyes.

So now he sat with his legs stretched out across the dressing room bench, pretending to be trying on clothes to make Fred Happy.

It had been a long day. Although he'd only been awake for a little over five hours, it felt long to him. He wanted it to be over with already.

He suddenly felt a tingling feeling in his pocket. Realizing it was the cell phone his father had gotten him, he fished it out of his front pocket. 'SPIKE' was written across the screen. Flipping the phone open he answered. "Hello?"

Phones were still an odd thing to him. It was strange. You could talk to someone, and they didn't even have to be anywhere near you.

"We've got a bit of a problem…" Spike said on the other end of the line.

"What's wrong?" Connor quickly asked, now standing up in the small square room.

"Spike… t-tell Con…" He heard his father begin to say, he assumed somewhere near Spike. "Peaches, will you bloody well shut up already that's not making the bullet holes heal any faster, ya know." Spike chastised.

"Bullet holes?!" Connor asked, his eyes becoming the size of saucers, as he recalled his first night back to this world, and his very first encounter with that of a gun.

"Yeah, well see… that seems to be the problem… captain forehead had a little run in with Wolfram and Hart' special ops. team… they shot him up quite a few times, I honestly don't know how he's still standing right now- oh! There he goes… he finally passed out." Spike finished, his tone trying to portray calm, and humor, but not quite succeeding. "Kid?… You there?"

Connor realized with a start that he'd just been standing with his mouth slightly agape, he had let the phone slide a little ways down his neck, and he hurriedly jerked it back up to his ear.

"Is he okay?" Connor demanded to know.

Spike made a sound, as if he were sucking in air through his teeth before he replied. "He's fine. We just need Fred here to make sure he heals properly. Trust me, you do not want to see what a defective vamp is like. Their very grouchy, and that's the last thing we need from the poof."

"Alright, I'll hurry and get her. We'll be there soon." Connor said, not waiting for Spike to say goodbye as shut the phone, ending the call.

Rushing out of the dressing room, he spotted Fred a few feet away idly sifting through a rack. He ran over to her, grabbing hold of her wrist lightly he tugged her towards the door as he said urgently; "We have to go."

Fred made a startled noise as he began pulling her. She wrenched her arm from his grasp. "We haven't even paid for your clothes yet!" She protested, making him stop mid stride.

"Fuck the clothes!" Connor snapped at her, "My dad's been _shot_ we need to get home, _now!_"

Fred's eyes widened, whether it was from his language or the fact that Angel was injured, Connor honestly didn't know, but he knew he was deeply grateful when she finally complied with him and tried, but failed to keep up with his pace.

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**A/N: Omigod! Angel's hurt!! Nooooo!!! O.O New chapter! Yay! Makes me happy to get a new one out there! XD So… people have been wanting more Fred and Gunn. *cough* Touch Of The Wind *cough* I really love Fred, and did absolutely love her and Gunn together, so I'll try to fit more of them in. Probably some Gunn in the next chapter. **


	6. Faults and unheard confessions

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of it's characters.**

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**A/N: Dear jesus! I finished this at 6:00 in the morning!!! On no sleep mind you, but hey… I've been feeling sick so what else am I supposed to do? -.- hmm… didn't I just update about one-two days ago? Eh, oh well maybe people will be happy about that.**

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Connor's feet pounded heavily against the pavement as he hurriedly raced to get to the hotel. He'd left Fred in the car knowing full well that he'd get there much faster if he ran. His heart banged almost painfully against his chest, and it wasn't from his run, he knew. It was from the severe anxiety of knowing that his father was hurt. He had a nagging feeling that Angel's injuries were worse than Spike had let on.

Nothing could happen to Angel, Connor wouldn't let it. Angel was important. He mattered. The world needed him. Connor needed him, though he was always so reluctant to admit it. Or stubborn maybe? Maybe he was like Angel in ways he didn't even know yet. He shook the thought from his head.

He pushed himself on harder, seeing the Hyperion come into view. Noticing that Fred still hadn't made it back, he rushed through the entrance doors, his breathing heavy, and ragged. He was met by the sight of Gunn anxiously pacing.

"Whoa, kid you okay?"

"Where's dad?" Connor demanded, ignoring Gunn's question completely. How was he supposed to answer that? Was he okay? No. He wasn't okay. Someone had hurt his father, and Connor… Well, he was terrified.

"In his room," Gunn said pointing upstairs. "But I don't think that you should go…" Connor quit listening as he dashed up the stairwell and jerked his father's door wide open.

He nearly fell to floor once he saw the damage that was truly done to Angel. "Oh my god…" He gasped, his eyes taking in every inch of Angel's bleeding, and severely scorched body. He had to grip the dresser, his legs feeling as though they couldn't keep holding up his weight.

"Connor," Spike greeted, a grim look on his face. "Where's Fred?"

Connor barely heard him as he came to rest in the chair beside his father's bed. _He'll be fine… He'll be fine… _He kept trying to tell himself, but every time he allowed his eyes to glance down at the sad form beside him, he wasn't so sure.

"Connor!" Spike shook him. "WHERE IS FRED?!"

Connor snapped himself out of his thoughts long enough to tear his blue orbs from Angel, and place them to stare detachedly at Spike. "I-I ran here… knew it'd be faster… she's driving… she'll be here soon." His voice was low, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears, as he turned his head away from the blonde.

Spike sighed, running a hand through his slicked back hair, making it stick up. "Alright," He muttered to himself. "I'll just have to do what I can, with what I know…" Nodding, he took out the first aid kit searching relentlessly for any type of burn cream. He really wasn't sure of what he was doing, but Spike knew he had to try to do something for his grandsire.

Finally finding what he was looking for, Spike quickly squeezed out the contents of the small tube into his hands. It wasn't nearly enough, but it would have to do. Starting at Angel's shoulders, he gingerly rubbed it into the burned vampire's flesh. Vampires might heal more rapidly than humans, but still, it was a terrible feat to be burnt this badly, Spike knew from experience.

Glancing over at Connor he saw him notably begin to break down, though he could see the boy trying to keep it together with all that he had. "Connor," He said, and Connor barely even acknowledged him. "You want to help?"

Connor immediately stood, nodding and wiping away the few tears that had escaped from his eyes. "_What should I do?_" He whispered.

"We need to get those bullets outta your father before they're stuck in there permanently."

Connor stared wide-eyed. "Wha…"

Spike sighed impatiently. They didn't have time for Connor's apprehension. "Just do what I tell you to do, and everything will be fine, alright?"

"Okay."

"Alright," Rubbing the last of the burn cream on Angel's torso, Spike wiped the excess off on his pants. Fishing for disinfectant next, taking it out and tossing it to Connor, who caught it, he next took out surgical scissors, and what looked to be stainless steel tweezers, taking out some gauze for good measure, he returned to his spot on the bed.

"What now?" Connor asked, his voice a little higher than usual, as he hovered behind Spike nervously.

"You," Spike pointed towards Connor. "I need you to disinfect these." He said handing off the steel instruments. Connor nodded, eager to help in any way that he could.

Hurriedly finishing off the task he was given, he released the scissors back to Spike, and cringed when he saw what was about to happen. He'd seen some of the most horrific things that anyone could imagine, but nothing, not one of those gory things could even slightly compare to the nausea he felt when he looked upon his father now.

He sat back rigidly in his chair as Spike began cutting, and widening Angel's bullet holes. He tried his best not to flinch every time he saw Spike digging around inside of the wound, but found that he wasn't capable for the most part. It reminded him too much of his time in Quor'toth, and he thanked whatever god, or high power there was, that his father was knocked out through what would surely be agonizing pain. Connor knew, it was definitively agonizing to watch, let alone feel.

Finally the first bullet was out, and Spike dropped it inside of the trash can beside the bed. Wiping off the scissors, he moved to work on the next one.

"I-I'm here!" Fred panted, as she slung the door open, her eyes wide, her mouth drawn in a thin line. Gazing behind her Connor saw Gunn had decided to come up as well.

"Oh thank god…" Spike murmured, as he extracted the second bullet.

"What happened!" Fred exclaimed, rushing over to the bedside.

"I don't really think that matters now, luv. What's important is that we get these damn bullets out before he heals."

Fred nodded her agreement, digging in the first aid kit for more scissors.

Soon they were both hard at work removing bullet, after bullet, with Connor panicking over what they were doing every now and then, it got to the point where Spike nearly had to physically escort him out, letting him stay only when he promised to sit quietly in the chair.

He was fidgeting restlessly now, actually biting his fingernails, something he hadn't done since he was a little boy hiding underneath the dark trees of Quor'toth.

"Done!" Fred announced, as she sat up straighter. They now had nearly every inch of Angel covered in gauze, and bandages, the only skin showing was his face, which wasn't as badly burned as the rest of him.

"Good." Connor said, his anxious demeanor gone, replaced with one of anger, and frustration at not knowing everything that happened. "Now what the hell happened tonight?" He looked pointedly at Spike his eyes so intense Spike was actually reminded a little of Angelus when he didn't get something that he wanted.

Spike sighed. "Well…"

* * *

"_Now tell my exactly peaches, what are we following up on?" Spike queried in his usual sarcastic manner._

_Angel sighed in frustration. "For the last time Spike, we're here to get some more information about Wolfram and Harts' interest in Connor. There's word on the street that their planning something that involves him. Maybe their going to come after him, I don't know, but I sure as hell will find out."_

"_Ah… is that why you sent the little nipper off shopping with lovely Freddie?"_

_Angel looked uncomfortable for a moment as he continued his trek forward. "Yeah…"_

"_Now correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that what you did when he first came back? Distract him so you could do something that involves him?…"_

_Angel stopped mid-step "You know what Spike-"_

"_What sire? Did I strike a nerve?"_

_Angel took in a deep breath, though he knew he didn't need to. His face softening some he muttered; "Yeah… that's what I did…" Moving forward once again, he didn't wait for Spike to catch up with him before he stepped in front of the warehouse doors._

_Running to catch up, Spike took a good hard look at the vampire standing before him. Groaning he said; "He doesn't resent you for it, you know?"_

_Angel kept his head low. "He does."_

_Shoving Angel against the brick wall, Spike held him there staring him dead in the eyes, barely even giving notice to the somewhat shocked expression on Angel's face. _

"_He does not. Have you even paid any notice to the way he is around you lately?"_

_When Angel didn't respond Spike continued. "It seems to be the only time when he's not caught up in some internal pit of despair. You don't see what he's like when your gone, if you did you wouldn't think the way you do." Spike finished, releasing Angel's coat._

_Angel straightened his coat, not sure whether to feel happy that his son doesn't seem to hate him anymore, or disturbed that he seems to spiral down when he isn't there._

"_Alright…" Angel said. He looked like he was about to say something else when a loud crashing sound came from one alley over._

"_I'll check it out," Spike volunteered. "You go do what you have to."_

"_Thanks…"_

"_Yeah, yeah…"_

_Angel waited until Spike walked away before entering the building to talk to his source. His head still working out the information Spike had just given him._

_What awaited him once he entered was something completely unexpected._

* * *

"It took forty of 'em bearing guns and flame throwers to take the old sire down…" Spike commented. "I heard the screaming… I knew it was bad if Angel was screaming…"

Connor knew how much what happened truly upset Spike. He almost never called Angel by his name, it was always; 'peaches,' 'poof,' 'sire,' or the ever popular 'captain forehead.'

"How did Wolfram and Hart find out about the meeting?" Gunn asked from the doorway.

"Best I can figure is that scum _Merl_ sold us out." Spike said through his teeth.

Connor's head snapped up. "Merl? Who's that?"

"A demon," Fred said, a contemplative look on her face. "We pay him for information sometimes… I know Merl wasn't the greatest, but do you really think he would do something like that?"

"_Hell_ yeah! I always told you I didn't like his creepy ass." Gunn said, his arms crossed, his; 'I'm ready to kick some ass face' on.

Connor had a similar look, as his angry eyes bore holes into the floor. There was a price to be paid here… And it was quite steep, and Connor would make sure that the people responsible for his father's state of being would pay it, and then some.

* * *

It was his fault.

Connor knew it was. He'd known as soon as Spike had told them what happened. His father was trying to protect him, and ended up getting himself scorched, shot, and now comatose.

Spike said that he'd wake up in a few days, that if he were human, he wouldn't even wake up at all, and for Connor to relax, everything was going to be fine, he'd said.

Connor desperately hoped his words were true, as he sat next to his father's still form on the bed. Fred said that sometimes people in comas could hear you. That they may not know what exactly your saying to them, but they know you are _speaking_ to them, and they hear the sound of your voice.

Connor sighed. Maybe he'd give it a try. It was the third day since Angel's encounter with the flame thrower, and he still hadn't stirred. It was unnerving. Connor missed his father, though he knew that he was lying right there beside him, it felt like he wasn't all there. And if Angel wasn't, then Connor wasn't either.

His arms still stung from his earlier encounter he provided himself with the edge of his razorblade. It helped for only a few moments before he felt worse than he had before he did it.

He wasn't worried about them though… They all left him alone. They knew he needed space. That he needed time alone with his father, to sort things out.

"_Dad?…_" His voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know if you can hear me but… I-I'm so, so sorry this happened… It's all my fault I know… you were trying to protect me, and you got hurt…"

Looking down he noticed wet spots appear on the sheets. Realizing they were tears he didn't even know he was shedding, he sniffled.

"I'm not mad at you for sending me with Fred… but… I know that if I was there I could've helped… I could've… I dunno… prevented this from ever happening… would've taken your place if you would let me… I'd do it in a heartbeat. I don't resent you… I try so hard not too… you're the only person that's ever actually loved me. I won't ruin that… won't let anyone take you away from this world…"

Connor laid down on his back, holding his pale arms out in front of him he stared at the bright red marks that rest there. His sleeves were still pushed up, as he only just recently returned from the bathroom sink. He felt awful for it. He did such a horrid thing while his father lay asleep in the next room, completely oblivious to his son's actions.

Letting his arms fall down to lay straight at his sides, he took a deep breath. He knew he couldn't tell him when he was awake, but he needed to tell him. It was eating him up inside. Now was his only chance… He had too.

"Dad… there's something I've been hiding from you…" He paused, allowing his despair to leak out through his blue irises. "It's a secret… one that no one knows… except maybe Spike, but I'm still not sure of that… _I… _I've been hurting myself, dad… I know you don't want me too… I kn-know that it's wrong… but this isn't the first time I've done it… I used to when I was in Quor'toth… only… nobody cared enough about me there… there was only him… and as long as I didn't kill myself, he didn't care."

Connor let his head fall to the side so he was peering at his father's not-so-peaceful sleep through blurry eyes.

"I hope you can hear me… but I hope you that you can't… _god…_ I'm so selfish! I need you here… I don't know what I'll do if your not… I-I can't go back to the way I was when I was on the streets… I can't be that empty again… I won't survive it…"

Rolling onto his right side, he shut his eyes tight, willing himself to fall asleep, as he let one last murmur escape his lips in the form of a plea. "_Daddy, please wake up…_" And his heart sank when he found that his father in fact, didn't.

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**A/N: Oh. My. God. I wrote pretty much this whole thing in about three hours straight. O.O Well, aside from the very beginning that is… how'd I do with this one? Hmm… going in to this I really didn't have much on the lines of a 'supernatural' plot, but I think I'm getting there with one. (hopefully). I went a little confession crazy, but… I think I like it. Eh… you tell me…oh and, I know nothing of first aid or anything :/ I just sorta guessed… hope I didn't get that too wrong .**


	7. Wake up calls

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of it's characters.**

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**A/N: Yet another chapter in a short period of time. Yay?**

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_It's been a week…_ Connor thought somewhat panic-stricken. He'd refused to leave his father's side since they'd patched him up. He had his meals brought up to him usually by Fred, though he rarely ate them. And he only left to bathe, but even then he was only one room over since he started using Angel's adjoining bathroom.

The matter of Angel's meals had posed a problem. Spike had said that pigs blood just wasn't going to cut it when it came to Angel's healing. And in all honesty… Connor wouldn't have minded if Spike had gone out and gotten a hobo for Angel to feed on, if it helped his father, he was willing to do almost anything, and he felt completely hideous for it.

But instead Spike did something that had utterly shocked him. After Fred and Gunn had ventured back to sleep in Fred's old room, looking drained, and exhausted, he took a knife to his very own wrist and slit it precisely, then he lifted up Angel's head, opened his mouth and made Angel drink from it.

It was then that Connor knew how much Spike truly did care for his grandsire.

Connor rarely let anyone stay in Angel's room with him for very long, only with the exception of Spike. Fred had fussed at him one day, saying he was being overprotective, and broody, to which Gunn felt the need to comment and say, 'like father, like son.' but quickly shut up after receiving a nasty glare from the vampire spawn himself.

He sighed, his eyes shifting back over to his father, instead of the beige wall from which they previously rest.

He'd been talking more often to Angel in his unconscious state. Nothing he said was of much importance like it was the first night he began speaking to him, but he felt it was necessary. He thought that maybe if continued to speak to Angel about anything that popped into his head, that he would finally wake up.

"Spike keeps insisting that I eat more…" Connor said meekly from his spot next to Angel. "He says I look like an anorexic… I had to have Fred tell me what that meant… it's not like I don't eat for that reason… I just… I don't know… it feels like a chore to even chew something in my mouth… it feels like it's weighing me down… but I guess you kinda figured that I don't eat before, didn't you?"

He cast his eyes back to the wall with a deadpan expression when he remembered that Angel wasn't going to say anything back. He didn't think he would miss the sound of his father's voice as badly as he did. Hell he even missed his lectures, as mush as he hated them before, he truly would give anything for Angel to be giving him one right now.

He blinked slowly at the wall. _Spike…_ He thought. He meant well Connor knew, and he appreciated everything he was doing for Angel, but god was annoying him. Since Angel's current state, Spike had taken charge of everything, and Connor was glad for that, he was no leader, but Spike was when he wanted to be. Spike had been holding things together, but he couldn't for Connor, for his emotions were barely tied together with a loose string, a string that was slowly coming undone, thread, for frigid thread.

"Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand out there all day?" Connor asked the presence on the other side of the bedroom door. He heard a soft chuckle, and if he didn't know who it was before, he did now.

"Well, I thought I'd just give you a few more moments to vent 'bout me." Spike said as he strode in carrying a tray of food. Connor rolled his eyes.

"So you were listening?" Asked Connor a little self-consciously, not looking the blonde in the eyes.

Spike sighed. "Partly… I tried to tune you out, not wanting to intrude."

Connor snorted at this.

"Since when do you care about-" He used his hands to make little quotation marks in the air. "Intruding?"

"Since I don't know what's going to set you off." Spike stated honestly.

"What do you mean?" Connor asked, in genuine confusion.

Spike inhaled deeply, muttering what sounded a lot like; 'I need a smoke.' before he began to speak.

"You've been locking yourself up in here 24/7, your not eating, barely talking to anyone aside from a comatose peaches, which really, I don't think can be very healthy for you mentally, you know, talking to someone who says nothing back. And you obviously weren't in the best of mind set before, if your attempt at suicide tells us anything. And it's just there in your eyes, Connor. Your obviously broken, and there's nothing we can do to fix it, I know. The only person who can is down for the count right-"

"FINE!" Connor nearly screamed, cutting Spike off, not wanting to hear anymore. "I get it! I'm fucked up in the head! Jesus, why do you have to rub it in? Don't you think I know all of this?" Connor abruptly stood up, crossing his arms over his chest, and turning his back on the vampire.

He heard Spike set down the tray, and slowly make his way over to him. He then felt a hand on his shoulder as Spike tried to turn him back around.

"Hey, look I didn't mean to upset you… I'm just trying to make sure your alright while daddy dearest is outta commission."

Connor allowed himself to be turned to face Spike. He felt embarrassed for he knew he was now crying, and that was something he hated for people to see him do. He didn't want anyone to see him this vulnerable, the only one who he ever let, lie unaware of it in the comfort of his squishy king sized bed.

Spike's heart dropped at the sight before him, he never meant to make Connor cry, that was the last thing the kid needed at the moment.

"I'm sorry…" Connor apologized, wiping at his eyes furiously. "I didn't mean start cry-"

"Connor, you've nothing to be sorry for… you've got a lot of stress on you right now with everything that's happened, and honestly, I'd be more worried about you if you didn't break down and cry every once and a while. I'm just trying to help you, but I obviously don't know how." Spike said, his dark blue eyes sympathetic.

Connor stared down, watching as a tear dropped onto the floor. "What if he doesn't wake up?" Connor asked in a faint whisper.

"He will."

"But look at him!" Connor said, head now lifted, as he gestured towards the still form on the bed. "He hasn't even m-moved… he barely reacts to anything, and it's been a week! I-I don't know what I'll do if he-"

But Connor never finished his sentence for in that very moment, when he was allowing himself to finally tell someone who wasn't asleep his fears, Angel started to stir.

"_Bloody hell…_" Spike whispered, as he, and Connor both stared as Angel moved around, murmuring incoherent words.

As fast as lightning Connor was by his side, kneeling. "Dad? Are you awake?"

"_C-Connor_?_…_" Angel rasped out.

Relief washed over Connor like a soothing rain. He was awake, he was _finally_ awake! "Dad!" Connor took a deep breath "Your okay…"

"Are you?" Angel asked him, as his eyes began to flutter open, meeting Connor's instantly.

Connor rolled his eyes. Didn't it figure that Angel was the one lying in bed with third degree burns all over his body, but it was Connor that he was worried about. "Yeah, I'm fine… I'm not the one who was in coma for the last seven days…" Connor replied.

"You're crying…" Angel said, his eyes looking sad at the sight of his son's wet eyes. He shakily brought a hand up to Connor's face and gently wiped away all remaining tears.

"I'm fine…" Connor assured, glad for his father's touch, though he would never admit to it.

"He's been worried sick about you, this one has." Spike finally spoke up, with a smile. It was the first time Angel even noticed Spike was in the room. "Hasn't left your side since you've been hurt."

Angel cast his eyes back to Connor. "Really?" He asked. And Connor merely nodded.

"Well, I'd better go call Fred and Gunn and tell them your no longer comatose." Spike said, although that wasn't his only motive. He knew that he should leave father, and son alone. They had some things to discuss, Spike was sure. Disappearing into the hall he shut the door softly behind him with a click.

Connor suddenly stood, a thought occurring. "Do you need me to get you anything?" He asked a little frantic. "I can go get you some pigs blood if you need me to?"

"No, I'm alright," Angel said as he brought himself into a sitting position. "Come sit down with me."

And Connor did with a sigh. "I'm glad your awake, dad."

"I know you are… I'm glad I am too…"

Silence hit the room like cold water being thrown in your face early in the morning, until a thought made it's way into Connor's mind.

"Uh, dad?…"

"Yeah?"

Connor began fidgeting as his question passed through his lips. "D-do you remember anything from your coma?…"

Angel took in several deep breaths. "I do…"

Connor swallowed hard. "Could you hear me talking to you?" He wanted to know desperately if Angel now truly knew almost all of his deepest, darkest secrets.

"Yes… for the most part I could… it's fuzzy on what you were saying, though. Was it important? Do you need to tell me something again?" Angel said, peering over at the still fidgeting boy.

"N-no… it wasn't…" He said, though he wasn't sure if he was relived by this news that his dad didn't know, or if he was disappointed…

"Are you sure?" Angel persisted, his eyes observing Connor worriedly. "You seem like you want to tell me something, but your afraid."

_Damn him…_ Connor thought, he really did know Connor far too well. But Connor wouldn't say. He couldn't. Angel was right, he _was_ afraid. And this fear was almost paralyzing. Almost as bad as the fear he felt after Angel was injured. It was the fear of his father being ashamed of him. And he surely would be. Angel was such a strong person, and Connor was just so very weak.

"No… I'm fine… promise." He said, although his promise didn't reach his eyes, and it showed.

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"Connor, I am _fine._" Angel insisted, trying to haul himself out of bed.

"Dad please! You shouldn't be exerting yourself like this! Please sit back down!" Connor practically begged him, as he tried to push Angel back down without hurting his still sensitive flesh.

"I can handle going to the lobby, Connor." He looked determined, and that frightened Connor to no end. He was still hurt, he shouldn't be doing anything. God, he knew that he'd try to take over everything again, which would be great if he was completely healed, but that wasn't the case. It'd only been a week since his awakening. He wasn't ready to take over things again. Though his bullet wounds healed awhile ago, his burns still hadn't, and he was still fairly weak.

"Dad, _please…_" Connor said, doing his best to feign Fred's puppy eyes.

And in the time it took for his heart to beat twice, Angel's face softened, and he reluctantly sat back down.

_I'll have to remember that look…_ He thought, as he slowly took his seat in the armchair, icy blue eyes still lingering on Angel as if he thought he'd make a break for the door. He relaxed when he saw that Angel did. He let out a deep breath, letting his head fall, and hit the back of the chair. He was so tired, but he couldn't sleep. It wasn't from the fact that he had to take care of Angel, no. His mind just simply wouldn't allow it.

"Connor, are you alright?"

"Yeah dad, I'm okay…" Connor answered without moving.

"No your not." Angel said, somewhat agitatedly, making Connor snap his head up.

Connor's brow furrowed as Angel gave him that same look he did when he wanted him to go shopping with Fred. He assumed it was his authoritative look. He squirmed a bit under the intense gaze.

"I… um… I don't really want to talk about it…"

"I don't want to force you to tell me, but there is something I've been meaning to talk to you about, you know, before the accident happened…"

"O-okay…" Connor said picking at his nails. He had a feeling that whatever Angel was about to say, he wasn't going to like it.

Angel sighed. "Well… I've been thinking… you've obviously got something deeply bothering you, and… with where you grew up-" Angel's voice hinted at the bitterness he felt towards that subject, but only slightly. "And with what happened when you almost drowned… I think that you should see someone about it."

Connor stopped his fidgeting as the realization dawned on him. "I don't want to." Connor said calmly.

"I know that you don't, son, but I think it'll help you, if you won't tell me than you have to tell someone else what's making you so hollow." Angel said, sitting up straighter.

Connor mimicked him, sitting up as straight as he possibly could. "I… I can't tell a total stranger things about me like that… I'll tell you, I will… I just I need time… it's hard for me…" He confessed.

"Alright," Angel said reluctantly. "We won't make any decisions about that for the time being…"

Connor relaxed until he heard;

"But…"

"_Yeah?…_" Connor asked nervously.

"But… there's something I won't budge on. I'm worried about your eating habits. You don't eat, you just pick at your food, I know, you know I've noticed, so don't even pretend." He gave Connor a pointed look as he said this, sensing the boy was about to open his mouth and deny it. "I want you to go to the doctor with Spike this Friday."

"What for?! I'm not sick! It's not like I'm going to die of starvation! I've gone months with barely eating when I was in Quor'toth!" Connor said loudly. He immediately regretted his outburst as he saw the sadness that crept into his father's eyes at the mention of the hell he used to call 'home'. "I… I'm sorry…"

"You didn't do anything wrong." Angel said softly. "But you will be going in for a check up. No arguments."

Connor slumped over in his chair, an intense frown etched on his face. "I'll go…" He grumbled. "But I'll be pissed off the entire time."

"You'll be fine, trust me. Spike will be with you, and I know he won't let anything happen to you."

"I know he won't." Connor said quietly.

Glancing over at Angel, he felt a pang of guilt for his sulking. He had no reason to, he knew. He just couldn't control the way he felt sometimes. Angel looked upset, and Connor had a feeling as to why.

Standing up, he plopped down on the bed, sighing. "I'm sorry…" He said, yet again.

"For what?" Angel asked.

"For… I don't know… you seem all broody, and sad, I just figured it was my fault." The teenager admitted.

"It's never your fault Connor, don't ever think that." Angel said as he wrapped his arms around his son in a comforting hug.

Connor didn't say how wrong Angel was, he didn't say how everything that went wrong in Angel's life was in fact his fault, instead he merely leaned his head against Angel's chest, and closed his eyes, as his restless mind began to calm itself, and he fell into an almost content sleep in his father's arms.

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**A/N: Wow. This chapter feels **_**really**_** long… O.O Though I don't think it really is, I think it's mainly because I stayed up all night writing again… :/ eh… well that's what I like to do, so oh, well… I'm really not sure how well I like this chapter. I tried to convey Connor's protective/caring side a lot in this one. Hmm… And Angel's up! YAY! ^-^ **


	8. Perfect despair

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel, or any of it's characters.**

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**A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter… it might shock some people as it goes on… well, I don't know, but read on!**

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**Warning: Kinda sexual content as it goes on. But nothing too risky, I promise! O.O**

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"_All my efforts to clean me, leaves me putrid, and filthy. And how can you look at me? When I can't stand myself. I'm tired… to be honest, I'm nobody…" -Perfect by Flyleaf_

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Connor was eavesdropping again. He knew he probably shouldn't be, that it wasn't right to listen in on someone's private conversation. But he found that he did it anyway. After all, their conversation was about him. And really that was the only time he listened when he wasn't supposed to.

"I really think that you should take him to see somebody, Angel." Fred was saying, yet again.

And Connor heard Angel sigh, from his spot pressed against his bedroom wall, since he was 'nicely' kicked out of his father's room by the Texan. _Damn those eyes…_ He thought irritated.

"Fred, I've told you, even if he would actually go to therapy, it's not like we could take him to see a human psychiatrist, not with the life he's lived so far. And I don't know of a demon one, and even if I did, you know how Connor feels about demons." Angel sounded frustrated, and Connor felt a pang of guilt rise up in his chest because of it. It seemed that no matter what he did, or didn't do he could never make his father happy, and that hurt him more than anything else could.

"I know Angel, but I think he may have an anxiety disorder, and I know of a way to find a demon therapist, you just have to keep an open mind, okay?" Fred's voice sounded earnest, and Connor couldn't help but feel annoyed at all the attention that was on him recently. He hated for people to worry about him, he didn't need anyone to. He never did, and he never would. At least that's what he told himself.

It was silent, he assumed Angel was giving Fred a look to continue, though he couldn't see. And finally she did.

Fred took a deep breath. "What if we called in Wes-"

"No." Angel said firmly, cutting her off.

"But Angel, he could help!"

"_Help?_" Angel said, voice dripping with bitterness. "Don't you think he helped enough when he _stole_ my son from me and practically gave him to Holtz?"

"He didn't give him to that man Angel, and you know it. He thought he was doing the right thing, but Justine took Connor before Wesley could change his mind."

Angel laughed, but it was a hollow laugh, one that Connor heard many times before from the man that raised him in the darkest of all worlds. He hated to hear it coming from Angel, it made his heart hurt with repressed memories of long nights of lying awake protecting Daniel while he slept, then of Daniel awaking only to train him, and tell him that warriors didn't need sleep, that it made you weak. He didn't want to be weak anymore.

"Do you honestly think that he would've changed his mind? He took my son away from me before Connor even had a chance at life. He took that from my son, and that's something that I'm not sure Connor can ever truly get back. And it's something that I don't think I can forgive."

Connor backed away from the wall, shaking his head vigorously. Is that how Angel saw him? A lost cause, a failed chance at normalcy? That's all he was. It didn't matter how hard he tried to be okay, because he wasn't, he never would be, and it seemed that everyone knew it before he did.

His breathing picked up as his eyes scanned the room frantically. His lungs hurt. Was he drowning? He wasn't in water but it felt like he was. Surrounded by pale blue. No. He had to go. Go where the walls weren't going to crush his last breath out of him.

Moving as fast as he could, his grace seemingly lacking, he yanked the window open, throwing himself out, he landed unsteadily on his feet, and he took off, not sure where he was going, and not willing to care.

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Connor walked for hours through back alleyways, his head bowed, his chest tight, a seemingly permanent frown etched onto his features. He took to wandering around aimlessly, letting his feet guide him to wherever they decided they wanted to go.

Angel's words still echoed in his head like a fire trucks siren long after its departure. Was it true? Did he truly lose his chance at life? Was he destined to fail at everything he did? Was everything he touched always going to crumple to dust, only to blow away with the wind, disappearing until it all just seemed like a dream, or maybe some delusional nightmare? He wasn't sure he wanted to know, for fear of what the answer would be.

He finally came to a halt next to an old apartment building, it wasn't far off from the one that he used to live in when he was what Spike had called him a 'street kid.' Connor rolled his eyes at the thought. He didn't feel like returning to that place, though. There was nothing for him there. What little he owned when he was living alone was taken to the hotel, what he didn't want he just left it forgotten on the dusty floor.

Sighing, he slid his back down the side of the building. Being on the streets was never the hard part for him, hell, that was damn easy. Most demons learned to steer clear of him, though that didn't keep him from hunting them anyway, and most of the more dangerous humans left him alone as well, once they learned that he wasn't as helpless as he misleadingly appeared to be.

The hard part was the loneliness he felt, the empty, hollow feeling. He hated it, he couldn't bear it, and yet here he was again, feeling the exact same way he had nearly a year ago, but he somehow felt even worse. Why was it that he could never be happy? He was supposed to have a new beginning. That's what Angel told him. He said they could start over. But it seemed as though he never really meant it, if what he said tonight was anything to go by.

Arms hugging his knees, he leaned his head against the wall. He had no idea what he was going to do. Angel was surely frantic with worry by now, and Spike, _oh god,_ he was going to be infuriated with him. But he would deal with it all in time, whenever his feet decided it was safe to go back home. When the walls weren't going to drown him…

"You look sad…" Said a quiet feminine voice beside Connor. Jerking his head up he saw a short, excessively thin, raven-haired girl standing next to him. She had a pale yellow dress on with a thin wool jacket, and worn out brown flats. Gazing at her face a thought accrued to him, as he said; "So do you…"

She shrugged slightly attempting a half smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I guess so," She said taking a seat beside him, her legs outstretched in front of her. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah." He said simply, casting his gaze towards the opposite wall.

"You must be crazy to sit outside in this freezing weather." She said, amplifying her point by wrapping her arms around her frame.

Turning his head back over to her, he scanned her face, searching her motives to speak with him. "That pretty much sums it up, yeah…" He said, his gaze scrutinizing, yet gentle at the same time. "If you don't mind me asking… why did you come out here to me?"

The girl sighed, her light pink lips still slightly parted before she spoke. "You look lonely, so am I… I just… I don't know… thought I'd…" She trailed off, seemingly nervous about something.

"Oh… it's okay, you don't have to tell me, it's not like I mind the company, really, I was just curious…" Said Connor, his eyes now staring down.

The girl stared at Connor for a long moment looking as if she wanted to say something. Then finally she did. "Do you want to come inside?" She asked meekly.

"What?" Connor asked, startled by the question.

"It's cold… would you like to come inside?" She said again, her eyes conveying something that Connor couldn't place, but wanted to figure out.

Taking in a few breaths he said a quiet; "Alright." And got up once she did.

He followed her into the vacant building that he was previously leaning against. Trailing behind her on the steps, he slowly stepped into a room on the second floor after she entered. The room reminded him a lot of where he used to live. There was a single sheet-less mattress pushed into the corner of the room, with a thin pillow, and a single blanket. Dirty, and torn clothing littering the floor, and Connor felt a harsh realization of how apathetic he truly was.

He was wondering if his numbness would ever go away when he suddenly felt the girl's hand running down his arm. Turning his head to peer at her slightly wide-eyed, he watched as she gently tugged him towards her. She placed a small hand on the back of his neck and pulled his face to meet hers. Brushing her lips against his, she pulled back slightly, mouth still hovering over his.

"W-what're you doing?" Connor asked nervously, his eyes never leaving the shape of her lips, though he tried to force them to focus on something else.

She sighed again, rolling her eyes a little at him. "Your empty…" She stated simply, then when Connor proceeded to stare at her like she was insane she elaborated. "Your numb, like me… do you wanna feel something?" She asked him, her eyes appearing somewhat void, like he remembered his being that night after the ocean, as he looked upon himself in his father's mirror. When he didn't answer she asked again. "Do wanna feel something good? Or do you want to be this shallow shell that you are?"

Was that what he was? A shell? It seemed about right. All he wanted was comfort, and in that moment, with that raven-haired girl Connor believed he could achieve that.

Apprehensively, he nodded. "Yeah…" He whispered. "I do…"

"Okay then… just do what you feel…" He nodded again, leaning down he captured her pale lips with his. He'd done this once before with Sonny, but he knew what he was about to do was something they had never even come close to doing. The girl slowly began to open up her mouth, allowing her tongue to come out and graze Connor's lips. Connor finally got the hint and opened up his as well.

Suddenly the girl shrugged off her jacket, and Connor did the same with his hoodie. She slipped off her shoes, as did he, following her lead. He knew what sex was, he wasn't so naïve as everyone seemed to view him as. Holtz had explained it to him at a young age. Though he was always told that it was a sinful thing that he ought not take lightly. But he didn't care anymore as he pressed the girl to the wall, kissing his way down the exposed skin of her neck.

She tilted her head back allowing him better access, as she placed her hands at the hem of his shirt, and lifted. Helping her pull it over his head, Connor let it drop to the floor with a _whoosh_ sound. Soon he was back to kissing her neck, but he then felt her nudge him back gently. Brows furrowed, he looked at her with confusion, until he saw her push the straps of her dress aside, and it soon pooled around at her bare feet.

Stepping out of the dress, then kicking it aside she made her way over to the mattress. Lying down she propped herself up on her elbows and gestured Connor forward with her index finger. He stood still in his place for a moment, just staring at this girl he hardly even knew, lying on a filthy mattress in nothing but a pair of white panties, and a matching bra. Shaking away his lurking thoughts that this was a mistake, he climbed on the mattress, hovering above her.

He felt her hot mouth gliding across his pulse point, sucking and biting lightly. He didn't like the biting. It reminded him too much of vampires. He shivered at the thought, but not from pleasure like the girl seemed to think, as she gave him a little smile.

Reaching her hands down she began to unzip his pants. He shut his eyes tightly, as his pants slid down his legs. He kicked them off, but kept his blue irises closed off to the world. He felt awful, but he was feeling something like she said. That was good right? He somehow knew that it wasn't, but he didn't stop what was about to transpire, from happening. He found that he couldn't.

He felt like dying. Maybe he was. He wouldn't know at this point.

Soon all clothing had disappeared from both bodies, the only thing that remained being flesh, upon flesh. Connor's body shuddered from the touch, though not in a good way. She was biting at his skin again, he hated it, but he said nothing. He knew what fath-Holtz would say. He would say he was just like his unholy father. Just like the putrid man-whore that's blood pumped through his veins.

His chest still felt tight, that hadn't changed, though his stomach suddenly felt queasy, he was adding to his ache, he knew, not helping it subside, but he continued despite this knowledge. Nothing he did was right, he wasn't right. He was in constant search of a relief, and it seemed that he was cursed to never find one.

The girl with the deadpan eyes, and the raven hair, told him to do what he felt, and right now all he felt like doing was weeping. But he didn't. He held it all in. He wouldn't let his despair show in this moment in time. This moment that was supposed to be something priceless, and special. At least that's what he was always told. It didn't really matter. He was destined for hell anyway, why not get a new feel for it?

* * *

Connor clambered back in through his bedroom window, his heart heavy, feeling like lead in his constricted chest. His eyes running like broken faucets. He left as soon as it was over. She didn't object, she merely pulled the blanket over herself, and turned away as he dressed himself. He felt shattered. How could he have done something like that? Something so meaningless. No love, only despair.

Connor's body was shaking, and he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, trying to still his suddenly freezing body, though he knew his chill wasn't coming from the winter weather. He felt like drowning again. What he did, it didn't help, it made him sicker. That's what he was. He was infected with a sickness caused by his own self. His own disease. A disease with no cure.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" He heard someone demand of him. Even in his dazed state he knew instantly who it was. He sniffled, and wiped his eyes before he answered timidly. "I… was just walking…"

Spike was angry, Connor could tell by the tone of his voice, and especially from the major death glare, that could've made him drop dead where he stood.

"You were just walking? Do you realize how worried we've been about you? Did you even think to tell someone you were leaving, or where you were going? Hell! You could've left a note and we wouldn't be having this problem right now!" Spike was pacing furiously in front of Connor in the dim lit room.

Connor bowed his head, feeling shameful of his actions, even more so of the ones that Spike was unaware of. "I just needed time alone." He said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Time alone! Your not living on the streets anymore, you can't just take off when ever you feel like it! You have to _tell_ someone! You can't be so selfish all the time!" Spike chastised him, his voice fighting to stay calm, but not succeeding.

_Selfish…_ That hit a nerve for Connor. He knew he was, but to hear it come from someone he'd grown close to, someone he looked up to, someone who was his… _friend_. It stung. It was like a deep gash to the gut. It burned him, and he suddenly wasn't so ashamed anymore, as much as he was just immensely angry.

His head snapped up, his eyes still wet, but now narrowed at the blonde vampire. "Why do you even care what I do? You are not my father." He said this with such venom, and he could see, even in the dark the hurt that crossed Spike's features, if only momentarily before Spike masked his feelings with expertise that only someone with his amount of life experience could master.

"No, I'm not. Your father is pacing around the lobby waiting desperately for your inconsiderate ass to show up. Do you have any idea what your doing to him? I've never seen him so… helpless… he's terrified that your never going to come back, or that someone is going to take you away from him again." Spike finished, his eyes intense, and caring, although they were mostly shining they're disdain for the way Connor was behaving right now.

Connor's rage was swept away by Spike's honest words. He knew what being helpless was like. He had all the brute strength he could ever need. But he lacked the metal, and emotional strength that he knew he needed to survive in life.

His eyes were still running, he let his head fall back down. "I… I'm sorry… I just… I needed to get out of here for a while… it was too much… I… I should've told someone first, I just I was upset… I had to go…"

It was then that Spike realized how truly distraught Connor was.

"What happened?" He asked his voice now soft, and soothing, moving closer to the fragile looking boy. Connor stepped back, walking right into the wall.

"Nothing h-happened… I had to leave for a while." Connor's voice was quivering, as images from earlier popped into his brain. He shuddered at the memories he hoped would fade away.

"Why?" Spike prodded. He wasn't going to give up, Connor could see that, but he wasn't going to either if he could help it.

"I… it was h-hard to b-breathe… I had to go where it was easier…" He admitted, but that was all he would admit to.

Spike's face took on a somewhat panic-stricken expression. "Why couldn't you breathe?"

Connor shrugged, his arms still encircling his frame. "The-" He cut himself off. No he wouldn't do this now. "It was nothing."

"I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that." Spike said firmly, placing his hand underneath Connor's chin to make sure he couldn't look anyway.

Connor's eyes widened momentarily, before he clamped them shut. "_It. Was. Nothing._" He said, abruptly jerking away from Spike, rushing into his bathroom, and locking himself inside. He slid his back down the door, sobbing. He felt Spike knocking on the door gently.

"Connor, let me in." He said softly.

"N-no! Just leave me alone!"

"I'm not gonna do that Connor. I can't."

"Go away!" Connor said hysterically, as he stood, turning on the shower.

"I can't leave you alone like this." Spike insisted, his worry taking over.

"I'm not coming out until your gone! Just leave!" Connor nearly yelled, as he stripped himself of his dirty clothing. Grabbing the knife from his pants pocket after he did.

Stepping underneath the scorching hot stream, he let it wash over him, refusing to turn the temperature down. Closing the steam covered glass door, he sat down on the tiled shower floor, every inch of him was shaking fiercely.

"Fine." He heard Spike's conflicted voice drift in through the door. "But I'll be back with Angel after your out of the damned shower." He heard his footsteps die down as he left, and he let his body slouch forward, eyeing the knife clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles white from the intense grip.

'Father' was right. He was dirty. He was a filthy abomination that was destined for the agonizing pits of hell. Tears mingling with the hot water, he let the blade of the knife hover above his left arm, before he began carving in multiple cuts over, and over again.

Tonight he would cut more than he ever had, and this time he would do it with no remorse in the aftermath…

**

* * *

**

**A/N: So, I bet what happened in this chapter was unexpected, but it's actually something I've been planning from the beginning. But do not worry! There will be no pregnancies! No evil demon spawned from poor Connor, and no relationship will blossom from this heartbreaking one night stand. It is basically like the whole Angel/Darla thing. Ya know, perfect despair and all that… Connor was just trying to feel something like Angel. He didn't want to feel the cold anymore. And had a little Spike/Connor bonding-ish moment.**

**Oh! And this wasn't another Connor attempt at suicide! He doesn't want to leave Angel alone so I thought better of that. He'll be fine. More blood loss than usual, but he won't die from it. Hope I don't lose readers because of this chapter… Review please? O.O**


	9. Hospitals suck

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel, or any of it's characters.**

* * *

"Connor, wake up…" Connor heard. He groaned from his spot on the bed, pulling the duvet more snugly around himself. Connor didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to move. His entire being ached too much to do that. "Connor, son, you need to get up, you have a doctors appointment." Angel said, which only prompted Connor to pull the covers over his head. He'd finally been able to fall asleep at five in the morning, he didn't know what time it was now, but he had a feeling it was still far too early.

He came stumbling out of the shower after forty minutes of his seemingly endless sobbing, making sure he didn't get out until after all the blood had stopped pouring from both of his arms. They were merely scars now, but he wasn't sure when they would disappear this time being that, he did it much worse than he ever had.

When he eventually stopped barricading himself in his bathroom, his long sleeved shirt hiding his marks, he saw both Spike, and Angel waiting for him with panicky expressions on their faces. He just looked down, not knowing what to say, or do, tears still leaking out. Angel rushed over to him, embracing him in a tight hug, and he broke down sobbing on Angel, completely soaking his shirt. Angel had lead him into his room, and that's where Connor still lie now, he slept better when he was in Angel's room. It felt safe. He felt like nothing could get to him in there.

"Peaches, that's not gonna get the kid up." Spike said matter-of-factly. Walking over to the bed Spike's hands hovered over the blanket before he gripped it, yanking it off before Connor could do anything.

Connor gave a little whimper as the cold air hit him, curling up in a ball on his side.

"Oh, your right Spike, because that worked wonderfully." Angel said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe we should cancel the appointment?" he added softly, his eyes flitting back over to his child, who looked like he was about six, rather than sixteen.

Spike huffed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "No. We aren't doing that after I took time outta my day for him." Gripping Connor by the arm he yanked the now startled boy up into a standing position. "Rise and shine junior!" Spike said in a sing-song voice.

Connor stared at him wide-eyed before his eyes narrowed to a glare. "What the hell Spike!" He demanded, pulling his arm away from the bleach blonde. "And do _not_ call me junior!"

"Well, then quit acting the drama queen like your father, and I won't." Spike retorted.

"_Fine,_" Connor hissed, stretching. He glanced over at Angel, he was healing much faster than before. His burns were reduced to small scars scattered here, and there, and he was moving around perfectly fine, though Connor was still watching for any given sign that he was going to collapse.

"Get your ass in gear, or we'll be late for the doctor." Spike said, a smirk resting on his lips.

Connor glared at him one last time before sighing, defeated. "I just gotta put my shoes, and a jacket on. It's not a big deal." he muttered, gazing at the bed longingly.

Angel smiled slightly at him, before saying, "Don't even think about it."

Connor frowned, grumbling to himself, trailing behind Spike as he left the room. He appreciated the lightheartedness they were trying to interject into the situation, but all he wanted to do was sink into his father's bed, and let the black void of sleep overtake him.

* * *

He hated this place.

Connor sat hunched over in an exceedingly uncomfortable waiting room chair, glaring heatedly at the white, shiny floor.

Everything was so clean. Too clean. The cleaning products practically burned the inside of his nose with each breath he took, just about choking him every time.

"You'll be fine." Spike murmured to him, not glancing up from his magazine.

Connor didn't say anything, as he drummed his thin fingers atop the wooden arm of the chair. He still didn't understand why he had to come here. The _hospital_… He loathed that word now.

"Connor Angel." A short, frumpy looking nurse called, as she held open the heavy door revealing the hallway to the examining rooms. She glanced up from her clipboard as she saw, Connor, and Spike stand up making their way over to her.

She smiled a false smile, that positively irked Connor, as they stepped beside her. "Follow me please." And they did, as she led them over to an electronic scale, a chair right next to it.

"Alright hon, I'm guessing your Connor?" She said, gesturing towards Connor, as he nodded. "Okay, why don't you step up on the scale right here so we can see how much you weigh."

Connor did as he was told, watching as the numbers kept going up, halting with a beep after several seconds.

"Hmm…" he heard the nurse say. "117... That's very underweight for a boy your age." She scribbled something down on her clipboard, then clicked her pen back closed. "Okay why don't you sit down so I can take your temperature." And Connor did, looking wary as he watched her closely.

"Open your mouth," he followed her instructions, mildly curious, as she stuck the little thermometer underneath his tongue. "Now close."

She waited thirty seconds before pulling it out, reading it, then proceeding to write what the little gadget said. "Okay if you'll follow me, I'll show you to your exam room."

They trailed behind her as she led them into a room marked: '302'. She hooked the clipboard on the front of the door as they entered. "You can go ahead and hop up on the table, Connor." she told him, her deceiving smile back in place.

He jumped up on the examining table, the paper crumpling beneath him. Somehow this room made him even more uneasy than the one before.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to test your blood pressure, and take a blood sample as well." She then exited the room, closing the door, and leaving a suddenly terrified Connor, and a bored looking Spike behind.

Connor turned to Spike, his eyes wide and unblinking. "What does she mean take my blood?" he asked slowly.

Spike rolled his ocean blue eyes at him. "It won't hurt, I promise. All they do is take a syringe- you know what that is right?" Connor nodded. "They stick it in your arm, and withdraw a little bit of blood, S'no big deal."

Connor began to calm until he realized… _My arm… _His face suddenly drained of all color, as he tried to keep his composer, but failed horribly, and he knew it.

"You alright there?" Spike asked, noticing Connor's change in behavior.

He swallowed. "Y-yeah, fine…"

"Are you sure? Your looking a little pale, and that's saying something coming from a vampire."

"I think we should go…" Connor said, completely willing to bust through the little window in the corner if Spike disagreed.

"No, I promised Angel that I'd bring you here, he's already miffed enough at himself for not being able to come, but he was just too busy today or he would've. Are you still scared of getting your blood taken? It's only a little needle, it just pinches, really."

Connor shook his head. "_I wanna leave…_" he muttered. He had a feeling that if he were to make it out anytime soon, he would have to go through Spike, and that just wasn't something he was willing to do.

His heart was beating so harshly, that he feared it would pop right out of his flesh. He knew Spike could hear it. Hell, even if he had human hearing he would be able to. Suddenly the already tiny examination room felt like it was growing smaller, and smaller by the minute.

He was doing so well at keeping his secret, and all his hard work was about to be to no avail, because Spike _was_ going to find out, it was inevitable. Maybe Spike was supposed to find out this way. Though Connor was petrified of his reaction. Would he be angry? Would he be sad? Disappointed?

Only one way to find out…

"S-Spike?" he stammered, unbelieving what he was about to do, but he knew that Spike would find out anyway, better he tell him now, rather than when the nurse takes his blood.

"Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "Th-there's something I need to show you before the nurse comes back in…"

Spike furrowed his brow in confusion, as he eyed Connor's fidgeting movements with the edge of his sleeve.

Connor's head was bowed, his fingers twitching as he slowly began to hitch his left sleeve up. "I've been hiding this from you, and dad…" he whispered, barely audible.

Connor heard Spike gasp, but just barely, almost thinking he was hearing things at first. "How long have you been doing this?" Spike's voice was a mere whisper, as he now stood in front of Connor, his fingertips grazing overtop of the crisscrossed, pink, and red scars.

A single tear fell from Connor's eye, as he said, "A few months now…"

"You did this last night." It was statement, not a question, Connor knew, but he nodded despite this. "I didn't realize you'd gotten this bad…"

Connor finally looked up. "I-I thought that you knew that I?…"

Spike sighed, it was heavy and full of feigned calm. "I suspected something along these lines, yes… but I… I didn't actually know that you were doing _this_ to yourself." Spike dropped Connor's arm, taking a seat beside him on the sanitary paper.

"Please don't tell dad." Connor pleaded, his glassy eyes misty, as he peered at the bleach blonde, noting the way that Spike looked right back at him with such a sadness.

"I have too. As much as the poof gets under my skin, he deserves to know something like this… It's important."

"Why? I'm not hurting anyone… well, other than myself, but if I wanna do this to myself than it's my choice, no one else's." Connor tried to reason, not wanting to see the broken look that would surely find its way onto Angel's face if he found this out.

He flinched at seeing the anger written clearly across Spike's face. "I-" he began, but was cut off immediately.

"You are hurting other people when you do this, Connor. And you don't even realize how much you do. Angel loves you. He loves you more than he has ever loved anything, and you doing this could nearly kill him. You have to stop, and you have to tell him."

Connor leaned his back against the wall, the chill of it sinking in through the thin material of his shirt. "I'm sorry…" he said, letting his lids flutter closed. "You were right last night. I am selfish, and I am honestly sorry for it."

He was a little surprised to feel Spike embrace him in a one armed hug, but didn't object, as he let his head fall onto Spike's shoulder, as a few fresh tears rolled down his cheek.

"Alright, Mr. Angel I- Oh my…" The nurse chose that moment to barge into the room, forgetting to knock like she usually would have. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. Should I come back in a few minutes?"

"Uh, no actually I think we'll have to reschedule this for another time, unfortunately something has come up." Spike said, pushing Connor's sleeve back down his arm discreetly, not wanting to risk the chance of the nurse seeing the tell, tale signs of his self-mutilation.

Connor slid off of the table, his head low, chin nearly pressing into his chest, as he felt Spike grab his arm gently, and lead him out into the hall, with the nurse protesting, saying that the exam wasn't nearly over yet, and that they still hadn't met with the doctor.

Connor didn't care though. He couldn't care about much of anything at the moment. He had to tell Angel what he'd been doing for the past several months. He'd been betraying Angel's trust so horrendously, he had to stop it now. Had to make it better. But how was he supposed to do that, when he couldn't even fix himself? He didn't know.

But one thing he was sure of;

Hospitals sucked…

* * *

The low life demon squirmed underneath Angel's intense hold around his neck, as he shoved him up against a concrete wall. "Tell me Merl, what do Wolfram and Hart want with my son?" Angel demanded, voice deadly, his eyes sharp, and penetrating.

Merl gasped, his hands coming up in a futile attempt to scratch away Angel's. Relenting, he let them drop down limply at his sides as he tried to speak. "O-okay," his voice came out in a mere raspy whisper. "I-I'll tell y-you."

Angel relaxed his grip some allowing Merl to speak more easily. "Talk."

Merl glared, but obeyed. "I'll tell you what I know. All I was told to do was get you to that warehouse that night. Look, I don't know why they wanted you injured other than the obvious reason that most of them despise you, much like myself…" Angel's grip tightened momentarily in warning, before relaxing. "Okay, okay! I heard one of them mention something about getting you out of the way temporarily to get to your kid. But that's all I know, I swear!"

Angel lost his patience now. "Why do they want my son?" Angel practically growled, pulling Merl back, then promptly slamming him back, _hard_ into the wall.

Merl groaned, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his head. "Fine! Something about his blood! That's all I know, honest!"

Angel slowly released his hold, but he stood menacingly, glowering over top of the demon. "Fine Merl, but if I find out that your lying-" Angel smirked at the look of fright that crossed Merl's features. "Then I'll be forced to pay you another visit. Do you understand?" Merl nodded, edging his way, away from Angel, as the vampire turned his back and began to stalk out of the alley.

Angel heard Merl take off at a run, as he finally began to process the information he was just given. The fact that Wolfram and Hart was interested in his child enraged him completely, especially since they had played such a major part in the events leading up to when Connor was taken. But what chilled him to the bone was the fact that they weren't just after Connor this time; they were after his _blood._ Angel wasn't sure if they still wanted to dissect him, to see how he ticked, but whatever they wanted, they would not get.

Angel would make sure of this.

**

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**

**A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter yet… I've been trying to correct my grammar recently. How'd I do? School's not my strong point so if there are mistakes I do apologize, I am trying… I just started writing my first Crossover fic last night, so updates for Humanoid might be a little slower as I'll be juggling two different fics now. **


	10. Make it better

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel, or any of it's characters.**

* * *

Connor was shaking. His _entire_ being was shuddering from nerves. His mind was working ten miles a minute, and he couldn't help but to wring his hands together, in an attempt to do anything but to think about what Spike was dead set on him doing as soon as his father made it back home.

He'd been pacing back, and forth for about an hour now, and he didn't know how much longer he could wait without going completely insane. On the one hand he would be glad to finally get this iron heavy burden off his chest, on the other, he was scared of what Angel would think of him, of what Angel would do; blame himself, and he would inevitably. It was Connor's goal through all of this to make sure that Angel understood that it wasn't his fault, that it was all Connor, and it was, Connor had known this since he started using self-harm as a vice to relieve his grief.

And that's all it was, was his grief. He grieved for a childhood he never got to have, a father that he betrayed before he even got a chance to know him, and last night he grieved for the loss of his innocence that he realized wasn't all drained from him like he had thought before, but now was.

"Con, you gonna be okay?" Spike asked him, for what seemed like the millionth time that night. Connor didn't even afford him a side glance like he did the other times, he merely nodded his head, his shaggy locks falling down in front of his eyes.

A thought suddenly occurred to him as he stopped dead in his tracks and asked, "Are you gonna be in here when I tell him?"

Spike got up from his spot on Angel's bed, coming to stand next to Connor. "Do you want me to?" he asked, his arm now residing on Connor's small shoulders.

Connor heaved a deep sigh. "I-I don't know,"

"Okay, tell you what, I'll stay when he gets here, but if you want me to leave just give me a hint and I'll leave, alright?"

"Okay," Connor agreed meekly. He then went back to his frantic pacing, as Spike now leaned up against a wall, watching him with pity.

He really hated pity. He hated when people looked down on him with it, and even more he hated feeling it for himself. He wasn't the type to, or at least he wasn't supposed to be, to feel sorry for himself.

"_Connor?" _he heard his name being called out. His eyes went wide, as he quickly backed himself against a wall. Angel was downstairs, no it was too soon, he wasn't ready yet.

"Con-" Spike began, but didn't get a chance to finish, as Connor started to shake his head vigorously from side, to side, muttering to himself, or to Spike, Spike wasn't entirely sure.

"I can't do this!" his voice was a high pitched whisper, as his words rushed together. "I can't, I can't, I can't! He-I… I'm too scared. He'll hate me! I know he will! I can't bear it! I can't! Please don't make me, Spike! Please don't!"

Connor was becoming hysterical. Spike strolled up to him, gripping both his shoulders in an attempt to ease some of his trembling. It didn't work.

"Connor, breathe," Spike instructed gently. "Just breathe."

"I don't-" He started, gasping out the words, but stopped abruptly once he spotted Angel come through the door.

"Connor, what happened? Are you hurt?" Asked Angel, frantic, rushing over to take Spike's place in front of the shaking boy.

Spike smiled sadly. "I'll leave you two alone, yeah?" he asked, directing his gaze onto Connor, who nodded his consent, as he fisted his hands in Angel's shirt.

Spike silently stalked from the room, determined to completely drain Angel's liquor cabinet once he was down in the office.

Angel waited until he heard the click of the door before asking, "Are you okay?"

Connor said nothing, shutting his lids as tight as possible in an attempt to keep his tears at bay. Why was everyone so insistent on asking him that? He was always forced to lie when they did. Fake a smile, avoid eye contact, and lie, promising them that he was fine, and he always would be.

"What's wrong, Connor? Please tell me. I can't help you unless you tell me." Angel pleaded, bringing up a hand to cup Connor's face, wanting to search his child's blue irises for the truth.

"You'll hate me…" Connor whispered, allowing his father's touch, though he had the sudden urge to turn away from it.

Angel's eyes widened at this statement, as Connor's words sunk in. "Connor, I could never hate you! Not ever! You know that! I've told you this before. You need to believe me when I tell you that I love you, and I will forgive you for everything bad that you might do, the minute that you do it."

Connor's body stilled slightly, but only just, as he untangled his hands from Angel's shirt, pushing Angel a little ways away. He grimaced at the hurt look that crossed over Angel's face, but couldn't do anything about it now, he had more pressing matters to worry about.

He took a deep calming breath, gripping at his sleeve for all he was worth.

"Connor?"

"Th-there's something that I…" He trailed off, his trembling returning full force. He couldn't speak right now, he knew. Instead he turned slowly to face Angel more fully, and yanked up his sleeve, closing his eyes as to not see his father's reaction.

There was nothing, only silence. Connor's breathing was quick, and shallow, as he was finally able to bring himself to open his eyes. What met them would forever haunt him, he was sure of it.

"D-dad…" Angel stood there, his eyes huge, and unblinking, his mouth a thin line, as his gaze was transfixed on the pattern Connor had carved into the pale flesh of his arm.

Connor quickly pushed the sleeve back down, turning his back to Angel. Stumbling over to the bed, he fell onto it, crying relentlessly the whole way. Wrapping his arms around himself, he brought his knees to his chest, lying on his side.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry…" he kept repeating, not knowing what to do, feeling worse now than he did before he showed Angel.

Connor's constant apologies seemed to shake Angel from his initial state of shock. He hurriedly rushed over to Connor's side, his unbeating heart practically shattering with grief as he watched his baby boy crying his heart out, curled up in the fetal position, mistakenly thinking that his father was angry at him, when in fact this wasn't the case at all.

"Baby, _shh,_" Angel soothed through Connor's whispered 'I'm sorry'. Rubbing his sides comfortingly. "You're okay, I'm not mad at you."

Connor let a sob break loose from his throat, as he tried to hide his face in the mattress. "I-I-I'm so sorry! I just couldn't take it! I had to! It made me feel b-better…"

"It's okay, I understand, but you can't hurt yourself anymore, you know this?"

"I-I know… but I'm not sure if I can alone… please h-help me, daddy." his voice was so cracked, and broken, his heartbeat was erratic, and everywhere.

"I will, I will always." Angel promised, wiping away Connor's tears, though his feat proved to be useless, for they were not going to let up anytime soon.

Connor moved to sit up, but found he couldn't on his own, needing Angel's help to do so. "I-I don't deserve your help… I'm beyond it, you can't…"

"Your never beyond my help, Connor. I love you."

Connor shut his eyes once more, letting his dam of emotions wash through him, trying to keep them under control.

"Son, why did you do this to yourself? Was this why you were so upset last night?"

Connor shook his head 'no', his hands grasping at the bed sheets.

"Well, then what was it?" Angel prodded gently.

"I l-left last night, y'know? And I was in this alley just s-sitting by myself, when this girl came up to me…" he paused, his grip becoming harder, knuckles turning white, as he let the previous nights events replay in his head. "We were j-just talking when she asked me to come inside with her… I did. We w-went up to her r-room, and she s-started to kiss m-me, and I asked her what she was doing a-and she s-said that I was empty, like her, and th-that if we did this I wouldn't feel empty anymore…"

Angel pulled Connor to his chest once he realized what Connor was telling him.

"I didn't feel better after, though. I felt worse… I'm, I'm dirty, I'm e-evil, I'm useless, and-"

"No! No your not! Your perfect, you're my son, your the best thing that I've ever did in my life. You could never be evil, and anyone who tells you differently will have to answer to me, do you understand?"

"I just wanna feel something good for once, is that too much to ask?"

"No, it's not." Angel said sadly, pulling away from Connor only to push up the sleeves of his shirt, examining his scars more closely then he was able to before.

Connor allowed this, though it was making him feel immensely uncomfortable, as he avoiding looking down at his arms. Instead Connor opted to stare at Angel's face as he peered at the scars with an intense frown, and a hurt gaze.

Connor began to jerk his arms away, but Angel held them firmly in place. Bending down, Angel gently pressed a kiss to each, and every irritated mark.

"Why'd you do that?" Connor asked, after Angel had finished.

Angel smiled slightly as he said, "To make it better."

Connor furrowed his brow in confusion as he spoke, his gaze locked on his still red arms, "But… it's not better."

"No," Angel said, determination shining brightly in his brown orbs. "But it will be."

* * *

**A/N: I hope this chapter didn't disappoint. (?) It's short, I know… :/ eh.. Well I have nothing really to say today… Shocking, right? O.O**


	11. Babysitters

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel, or any of it's characters.**

* * *

Lilah Morgan sat in her big plush leather chair behind the desk in her office, lightly drumming her fingertips atop the cold surface of the wood. Her bosses were not pleased, and when that happened, heads rolled, literally, and she was going to make sure that her head stayed firmly attached to her body.

Their plan to temporarily remove Angel from his son hadn't worked the way they hoped it would. They needed the kid, the kid who wasn't supposed to exist, yes, he was perfect. The senior partners greatly longed to discover how the child came to be, and after they used him, they would. But they couldn't get to him with Angel in the way, and it seemed that the already fiercely protective vampire had become even more so.

And Connor, the miracle child himself, had become protective of his father as well, and if their sources were true, the spawn no longer tried to kill him, but appeared to care for Angel now, Lilah couldn't for the life of her understand why.

But none of it mattered to her. The only thing that mattered to Lilah was how she was going to get the little brat to willingly give his blood to provide the end, and in turn save her own ass. Because when it came down to it, Lilah was only looking out for number one, no matter how many people were hurt, or killed in the process.

* * *

Connor sighed from his spot at the kitchen table across from Spike, where they were playing poker for chocolate chip cookies, a new game he'd learnt, and actually became quite good at it, though it was hard to beat Spike.

"He's never gonna let me be alone again, is he?" Connor asked, as he raised the pot to three more cookies.

" 'Fraid not, pup," Spike stated, applying the nickname he'd given to Connor after their day at the hospital. Connor didn't mind the name really, though he had been curious as to where it came from. Spike merely said that he had puppy eyes, and that Connor reminded him of himself when he was his age, and that, that was what his mother had called Spike when he was young.

"I guess I don't blame him for it, I haven't really given him much of a reason to trust me,"

"He'll let you be one of these days, though I have a feeling it won't be for an awfully long time," Spike said, as he laid down his cards to reveal that he had a flush. Smirking, he swept the cookies into his ever growing pile.

Connor rolled his eyes at the blonde vamp, "Well, I guess I'm stuck with you today then, since he won't let me near the weapons cabinet to help him slay the garner demon, even though Quor'toth was practically infested with them," he said with a bit of an embittered tone.

"He's just worried of what you'll do around all those sharp, pointy little objects,"

"I wouldn't use anything like that on me, if I were going to at all, which I'm not… I'm trying,"

"I know,"

"I _am_," Connor insisted, as though Spike had just challenged his statement.

Spike gave him a look, a cross between raised eyebrows, and a somewhat glare, as he nodded his head slowly.

"Sorry," Connor muttered, folding his cards down on the stainless steel tabletop.

"Your fine," Spike smiled reassuringly, used to Connor's teen mood swings by now.

Connor's lips formed a childish pout, as he groaned, and crossed his arms on the table before letting his head fall, his forehead resting on his forearms. "I feel like a caged rat, and people keep shaking my cage," he spoke, his voice muffled.

"Have you told Angel that?"

"No,"

"Why not?"

Connor lifted his head slightly so that his eyes could peer up at Spike, "I can't hurt him more than I already have, it tears me up inside, Spike,"

"I know it upsets you, but it will get better if you talk about it, and there are some things that Angel just needs to hear,"

"_I am trying_,"

Spike smiled, "I know," he repeated his sentence from earlier.

"Then why isn't it working? It's still easier for me to talk to you then it is to my own dad,"

"Your over looking the obvious here, pup,"

Connor sat up straighter in his chair, looking Spike in the eyes, dark blue, meeting curious ice, "And what's that?"

"I'm not your father,"

Was it really that simple? Angel was his father, and for that reason it seemed that the universe was working against Connor from being able to talk to him like he was able to with Spike. Spike… He never thought he'd grow so attached to the bleach blonde, but he had, he was like his older brother, he was like family, and really that's all Connor cared about, was his family.

"I don't suppose there's an easy way to get past that, is there?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but if I figure something out, I'll let you know,"

Connor nodded, placing five cookies into the pot, "I call," he stated with a smirk, hoping that Spike wouldn't realize that he was bluffing, and about more things than just the game.

* * *

Connor was bored.

God, was he bored. He couldn't stand doing absolutely nothing, and that was just what he was doing; nothing. Spike had to go help a client, it was urgent or he wouldn't have left Connor, even if Fred was just downstairs.

Huffing lightly, he stood from his father's bed, making his way over to the desk in the corner. He hadn't seen much of Angel lately, not as much as he should considering how worried his dad was about him. He was with 'clients' anytime Connor asked about him when he wasn't home, but Connor had a feeling that wherever Angel was, it had something to do with him.

Connor idly sifted through papers on his father's desk, when he knocked something off. Bending down to pick whatever it was up, he saw it was a sketch pad, and a pencil. Flipping the cover open he was a little taken aback by the expert drawing. There on the first page was a perfect sketch of Connor, blue eyes and all.

He couldn't believe how amazing Angel was at drawing, though with over a hundred years of practice, how could he not be? Biting his lower lip, he timidly flipped through the pages until he found a blank one.

Placing the book on the desk, he grasped the pencil tightly in his hand. He let it hover hesitantly over the paper, before finally pushing himself to do something. He moved the pencil to glide across the page, not really knowing what he was doing, or if it was going to be worthless or not, he pressed down on the pencil harder, making the lines become darker.

Connor wasn't aware of what he was drawing, completely separating his mind from the task, allowing his heart to control the movement in his hand. Connor pressed the pencil even harder, his eyes becoming a little blurry with tears that he was determined to keep locked away in his blue chamber. He didn't know where his sudden emotion was coming from, but he had a feeling that he had to let it run its course, or it would surely be intensified later. Anger, and sadness were at the forefront of his soul, as he sketched vigorously on the paper.

"Connor?" he heard, startling him, making him jerk his hand, and in turn snapping the tip of the pencil off. He dropped the pencil with a clatter onto the desk, wiping at his eyes, as he answered, "Yeah,"

"Are you okay up here alone, sweetie?" Fred asked him, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he'd noticed she'd taken to calling him 'sweetie', he didn't really understand why, but he had a feeling that it was out of pity, that or guilt.

"Are you sure?"

Connor sighed, he knew what she was doing, and he hated it, "I'm not up here mutilating myself, Fred," he said in a dull tone.

When Fred finally spoke again, her voice sounded uncomfortable, "I didn't say that you were,"

Connor rolled his blue irises, his back still to Fred, "Not in so many words, no,"

"I'm not meaning to upset you, I'm just looking out for you like Angel said,"

"Yeah," Connor said simply, slightly dragging out the word.

"Well, I'll just leave you be then, I suppose,"

Connor listened as her footsteps slowly disappeared down the stairs before he allowed himself to peer down at what he'd just created. His tears began to pour out again at the sight. There before him lay a picture of one; Daniel Holtz, only Daniel didn't look like the caring old man he could be at times, no, he looked to be extremely angry, and vicious.

His eyes held a glint of something sinister, his hair was strewn about wildly, and he appeared to be wearing animal skins as clothing, and Connor knew, this was Daniel Holtz from Quor'toth, not the Daniel Holtz who seemed to be so kind to him in L.A.

He didn't want the memories, he really wished them away. He wanted to change things, to grow up here, with Angel. Why had he loved Holtz so? Why did he still love him at times? He couldn't understand it, but he knew he didn't want to anymore. He wanted to hate him so fiercely that it hurt, but he couldn't, he found he wasn't capable.

He just stared at his drawing, and the more he looked at it, the more it unnerved him, ripping the page from the book, he glanced at it one last time before he crumpled it into a ball, throwing it somewhere near the waste basket.

Getting out of the chair, he stumbled his way over to the bed, pulling the duvet over him as he fell onto it, hiding his entire body beneath it, he curled up in a ball, willing his body, and mind to give into his need, and relax.

Taking deep, calming breaths, he fought the urge to do what he normally would when he felt like this, instead closing his eyes, and praying for sleep.

* * *

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to come home," Spike said, glaring.

Angel huffed, "Is there something you'd like to say to me, Spike?"

"What? Besides that you're a git, you mean?"

"What the hell's got you so pissy today?"

"Oh, I don't know, the fact that your son has just been laying in bed doing nothing, waiting for your ass to come home all day,"

"He has?" Angel asked, his former irritated demeanor faltering.

"To quote a Sunny Dale favorite; duh,"

"Well, is he okay?"

"For the moment, yes, but he needs you around more than ever, he hates being alone, I think that's what started him… y'know," Spike said, not saying it in so many words, knowing that it would only upset his grandsire.

"Where is he?"

"He's sleeping, but I don't think he'd mind if you woke him,"

Angel nodded, but didn't yet move, he merely stared at the floor.

Spike sighed, "I don't know what your doing exactly when you go out, but I know your not with clients, and Connor does too, he's a smart kid, and you don't give him nearly enough credit for that, I know your worried about what Wolfram and Hart wants with him, but it's more important that you worry about what's _happening_ with him now, rather than what someone _wants_ with him,"

Angel's face remained down as he spoke, "How would you know Spike? He's not your son, he's mine, you speak as though you know him better than I do, you don't,"

Spike tried to let the comment roll off his back, but he couldn't, "I don't know him? So why am I even here? You obviously don't need me around, so then why?"

"That's a good question, William, why are you here?" Spike couldn't help but to notice the venom dripping from Angel's tone as he said this.

"I… I guess I should leave then,"

"I guess that you should,"

Spike was silent for several minutes, letting Angel's words sink in. Angel had quit pestering him to leave a long time ago, and even before when he did tell him to leave, Spike knew that he hadn't really meant it, but here, and now Spike had a feeling that he did, and he didn't know what he felt about that, but he knew it wasn't good.

"Fine, I'll be out by tomorrow night," he said, before standing, and quickly taking the steps to get to his soon to be vacant, room.

* * *

Angel gently pushed open the door to his bedroom, his head still low, he closed it lightly behind him with a soft click. Leaning against it, he saw Connor asleep beneath a bundle of blankets, only some of his shaggy hair visible.

Dropping his head back down he saw a balled up piece of paper lying on the floor. Curious, he picked it up, unfolding it, and smoothing it out, he was shocked at what he saw. There on the paper was a detailed sketch of none other than Daniel Holtz, though there were some differences in the picture to what he really looked like.

He looked angry, monstrous even, and Angel had to wonder if this is how Connor really saw the man who had so vengefully taken him from his father. But one thing Angel did notice was how perfectly Connor drew for what Angel assumed to be his first time. Folding the page, he stuck it in his pants pocket, and made his way over to the bed.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed beside the big lump, that he knew to be his child hiding. Pulling the comforter away from his face, he gazed at the peaceful look that Connor wore.

Gently running his fingers through Connor's hair, he stilled as his boy began to stir.

"Mmm… dad?" he asked, his eyes flittering open.

"Hey," Angel said with a small smile.

"Hi, when'd you get back?" he asked, pushing himself up on his elbows to better see Angel's face.

"Not too long ago,"

"Oh," it was then that Connor noticed it, noticed the look lurking within his father's eyes, the hurt residing there. "Dad, what's wrong?"

Angel seemed surprised by this question, "Nothing, why would you think that?"

"Don't lie, I know when your upset,"

"I'm fine, Connor, I think I should be asking you, if your okay,"

Connor scowled at this, shaking his head exasperated, "I am fine, one more person asks me that, and I might have to strangle them,"

Angel chuckled, "We're just worried about you, we all love you, y'know,"

"_Riiight,_" he said, dragging out the word. "Hey, is Spike back?"

Angel seemed uncomfortable as he answered, "Yeah, he's in his room, why?"

Connor shrugged as best he could from his lying position, "I was just wondering, hey, did he tell you he taught me how to play poker?"

"He did?"

Connor nodded, a genuine smile on his face, "Yeah, I actually won a few times, but I'm still trying to figure out if he let me,"

"Oh, so you had fun?"

"Yeah, though I still don't think I need a babysitter, he's my favorite one,"

"What else did you two do today?" Angel asked, and then he listened to Connor as he recounted his day to him, still with that beautiful smile on his face, and as Angel listened to his son speaking, he still felt that ever present pang of jealousy towards his grandchilde, but he now felt guilt for what he had said to him as well, for he knew that Connor needed Spike, just like Connor needed Angel.

* * *

**A/N: Ooohhh looky it's longer! Yay! So I've noticed that people read more fan fiction late at night, and tend to review more ;} I do this as well, so I'm trying to post my updates later at night, rather than at 12pm during the day. *sighs* Angel, and Spike will never get along will they? Do you think Angel will let Spike move out? Hmm… we shall see. **

**And how did I do with the Lilah Pov? I made it where she barely used Connor's name, because she doesn't want to think of him really as a person, or she'll feel bad, I like to think that on **_**some**_** level she has a conscious. Though, I kinda doubt it at times. Review? **


	12. Stay

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of it's characters.**

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* * *

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**A/N: Sorry for the long wait :/ I've been busy not only with my other fics, but with everyday things as well O.O my older sister's getting married! Eep! I'm the maid of honor :} really no reason to announce it other than the fact that it makes me feel happy and all important! O(^_^)O well, I won't keep you waiting anymore, read on!**

* * *

Spike grumbled to himself, attempting to shove more clothing into his small suitcase. Huffing, he gave up, pulling a duffle bag out from underneath his bed. He had no idea what he was going to do, he had no one- nowhere to go. He could never go back to Sunnydale, too many memories threatened to resurface and cling to him if he did. Besides he wasn't welcome there anymore, he wasn't welcome anywhere it seemed.

Whipping out his flask, he quickly took a long swing, shutting his eyelids tightly as he tried to calm his fraying nerves. He never thought that Angel had ever truly hated him, nor had he thought that Angelus did, but he was beginning to reconsider that way of thinking now. He was terrified- terrified of leaving. Not only for himself, but for Connor. Connor was so fragile, so afraid that he always did something to disappoint the ones he cared about.

He didn't know how he was going to tell him. Leaving without doing so first was completely out of the question. He considered leaving a note behind saying some logical excuse as to why he couldn't stay, but it seemed too impersonal, and would surely only prove to hurt Connor.

Gulping down the contents of his flask, he glared at it once it was empty, throwing it agitatedly at the wall, hearing it bang against it with a satisfied _thwack. _He would be sure to stop by Angel's liquor cabinet on his way out if it was the last thing he did.

He wasn't used to this feeling- this dread mixed with a sadness he hadn't known since the first moment he was ensouled. It forced its way into the forefront of his mind, his heart, every part of him, and he was at a loss for what to do, how to make it better.

His fingers itched towards his front pocket, longing for one of the cigarettes that resided there. Angel didn't like for him to smoke in the hotel. _Fuck him…_ he thought, yanking the pack out from where it was previously confined, flipping it upside down he let a cig drop into the palm of his open hand. Sticking it in his mouth, he lit it up, watching as the flame danced before his eyes. Tossing both the lighter and the pack onto the bed behind him, he took a puff of his cigarette, relishing the taste of nicotine on his tongue. It wasn't as strong as it was when he was mortal, but sill it always seemed to calm him nevertheless.

"I thought I told you not to smoke that in here," Spike heard, making him spin around quickly only to find Angel standing in the doorframe.

Spike smirked halfheartedly, "Well, I figured since I'd be making my way out it wouldn't really matter then, would it?"

"Guess not," Angel replied, now staring down at the floor.

"Is there a reason you came up here, Angel?"

Angel sighed, not bringing his gaze up from the floor as he spoke, "I wanted to talk to you about all of this-"

"About all of what, exactly?" Spike cut him off, his eyes portraying a look as cold as ice.

"About you leaving. You know you don't have to go, right?"

Spike laughed, though there was no humor to it, "Don't I though, pet? You've made it abundantly clear time, and time again that you honestly despise me and want me no where near you, or your child."

"Connor wants you here, he needs you here," Angel whispered, finally lifting his head to gaze Spike in the eye, his chocolate brown orbs holding a look of internal struggle as it seemed he wanted to say more, but didn't.

"Connor doesn't need me, he has you," Spike muttered, turning to toss some more things into his bag.

Angel stepped fully into the room and stood next to Spike. Placing a hand on his shoulder Angel made Spike face him, "That's not true, and besides where would you even go?"

Shrugging off Angel's touch Spike blew a cloud of smoke in his face before walking over to lean up against one of the faded walls, "Why the sudden interest in where I go, huh? You never cared before. Hell, you would've staked me years ago if it weren't for Dru, why you haven't now only god knows why…" he trailed off, sucking in more of his much needed nicotine.

Angel strode up to Spike, took the cigarette from his pale bony fingers, threw it on the floor, then proceeded to stomp it out, "God Spike! Why can't you ever make things easy for me?"

Eyes narrowing and his jaw tight, Spike glowered at Angel, his anger finding a release at last, "Easy for you? Why the fuck is everything always about you and what you need? That's how you've always been Angel, you're a selfish prick who has taken everything from me and never even cared,"

"What do you mean I've taken everything from you? I haven't taken anything," Angel said, returning Spike's glare and then some.

"Everything I've wanted you had to have, and you made sure to get it regardless of what it did to me,"

"Like what?"

"Drusilla for one."

"I was evil then!" Angel sighed frustrated. "And besides, you did everything I did, always following in my footsteps, dating women once I was through with them, you've never had a mind of your own. I mean look at you! You even dress like I do for Christ's sake!"

"I took this off the bloody body of a Slayer! It has-"

" 'Sentimental value'," Angel mimicked Spike's voice as he finished the blondes sentence. "I know, you've made sure to mention that on more than one occasion,"

"Screw you, Angel! You don't know anything about me! _Fuck, _I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you! I should've been buried centuries ago, but no you ruined it, like Darla ruined it for you!"

Angel took a step back his demeanor quickly changing. His gaze met the wall behind Spike, and he crossed his arms defensively across his chest, "I ruined nothing for you, William, all the chaos in your life is the sole fault of you,"

"Yes, because I asked to be _this!_" he hissed, gesturing towards himself with both hands.

"I didn't ask for this either, but it's the hand we've both been dealt, and I'd like to think that there's a reason for it,"

"Yeah well, maybe there's a reason for you, but there's not one for me, like you've said many times before; 'I'm worthless', and will never make anything out of myself other than the half-asses serial killer that I used to be,"

The room grew silent, both men averting their eyes from the other in front of them. And even as the silence hung thickly in the small space, neither one noticed as Connor fled from the hallway, the deck of cards he was holding solely by his fingertips slipping and scattering in all different directions onto the wooden floor.

After several long minutes, Angel cleared his throat, "Spike,"

But Spike wasn't having any of it, trudging back over to his bed, picking up his cigs and lighter, cramming them both back into his pocket.

"Spike," Angel repeated, to no avail.

"No," Spike knew what Angel was doing, and he wouldn't give in until Angel said exactly what he needed to hear.

Sighing deeply, Angel pulled Spike away from the bed, and determined brown was met by stubborn dark blue, "_Stay,_"

And there it was. The one word Spike had waited his entire unlife to hear Angel say, but it wasn't enough- not this time, he needed more. "That's it?"

Angel's mouth hung open, his eyes wide in shock, "What do you mean 'that's it?' "

"You expect me to stay simply because you say so? _Prsh,_ I think not, pet, I need more than that," Spike said, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, "Why should I stay? Connor being the obvious reason, why else?"

Blinking, Angel cleared his throat again, "Because… I…"

"You what, pet?"

"Because I damn well want you to, okay?" Angel nearly screamed, aggravation evident in his expression.

A huge grin broke out on Spike's face, as he nodded his head in the affirmative, "Alright, alright no need to get so pissy with me, peaches,"

His annoyance seemingly melting slowly away, Angel gave a reluctant small smile of his own, "Okay,"

"_So,_" Spike said, dragging out the word, "Who's gonna tell Connor about all of this?"

Angel grimaced, "Uh, I was thinking we wouldn't,"

"You want to lie to him?" Asked Spike, a frown forming.

"No, just lets not mention this to him… at least not right now,"

"I guess we could wait awhile on telling him what happened," Spike reluctantly said, his gaze now cast towards the open door, where in front of it he saw cards lying everywhere.

Making his way to the hall he bent down to pick them up, immediately recognizing them as the ones he'd given to Connor the other day. "Oh no… Connor," he whispered, hurriedly shoving all but one into his coat pocket.

"What about Connor?" Angel asked coming up beside Spike.

"I think he heard us before," Spike said sadly, staring intently at the old worn out card in his hand.

"Oh god! Do you think he's run off again?"

Spike sighed, "It's Connor, of course he has… I think the more important question is, has he hurt himself yet?"

* * *

Connor slowed his pace down, eventually coming to a stop once he reached the end of the sewer tunnel. He was unsure of his way around the sewers still, Angel never let him travel by them much, and when he did it was always with him. Giving up, he slumped forward falling on his hands and knees in the filth beneath him.

Why did everyone want to leave him? What had he ever done that was so wrong, that made the ones he loved despise him so? Spike was going to leave, and he would never see him again, he knew he wouldn't. Why would Spike ever come back? He had no reason to. He didn't want to deal with Connor anymore, he knew that's what it was, but why was his very own father pushing away someone that Connor cared about? Connor didn't understand- he never did. He just wanted to make the pain go away, if only for a mere split second- he would take anything he could get right now.

Rolling over to sit down, he pulled out the butterfly knife he stole from Gunn's work space the other day- it was the only thing that could remotely do the job he wanted it to do without going too far. That and Angel would immediately notice if something was missing from the weapons cabinet, so Connor didn't dare risk it.

He didn't want to be alone anymore, and once Spike was gone he would be. He would have no one when his father went to meet with clients. Sure there would always be Fred, or Gunn, but he didn't have the same relationship with either of them like he did with Spike.

He wiped at his face, feeling his cheeks becoming wet. Flipping the knife open, he gazed at it dismally, playing with it in his bony trembling hands. He'd been eating more recently due to certain vampires who made it a point to hover over him during his meals, even the smallest of snack, making sure he ate nearly all of it every time. He had a feeling that if he didn't at least one of them, if not both would proceed to force feed him. He still wasn't able to put on much weight despite his chaperoned meal times.

Stilling his right hand, he brought the blade down to the pale flesh of the inside of his arm, firmly pressing it down. He inhaled sharply as the blood began to spill out and the metallic smell filled the dank air of the tunnel.

He did it again, slicing a long path up his arm- from his wrist, to the inside of his elbow. He winced slightly at this for that particular spot was very tender. Moving the blade down, he slit his wrist straight across, lightly grazing the already bleeding wound. He repeated the process several times before moving on to the next arm.

Cutting crisscrosses into his skin, he whispered incoherent words to himself such as, 'go away'- 'don't need it', 'it'll stop the pain', while unknown to him a little green demon wearing a devious smirk silently sauntered off with news he knew his bosses were going to find most pleasing.

* * *

"What do you want, Merl?" Lilah snarled, as she slammed her most recent stack of paperwork down on her desk.

"You should be nice to, Lilah, I only the perfect way to get Angel's son's blood," Merl said in his nasally tone.

"I've told you, Merl, it has to be given willingly or the sacrifice won't work," Lilah sighed, sitting atop her desk and crossing her arms.

"But what if I've found a way that will get him to give it _willingly,_" Merl pressed, a smile creeping up his lips.

Lilah sat up a little straighter, an eyebrow raised, "And how is that?"

"Nah-uh, first I need a guarantee that you, and your firm will keep me safe from Angel the insanely overprotective father,"

Lilah rolled her eyes, "Deal."

Merl nodded his head vigorously, going into great detail of the things he saw not more than thirty minutes ago. When he was finished Lilah was grinning ear, to ear, her dark smile outdoing the Cheshire cat's any day.

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**A/N: So glad to finally get this chapter out there! :3 Don'tcha just hate Lilah? I do, she's very selfish, though I hate Eve way more and thought it was awkward when Angel and her had sex in his office. O.O Anyway… it took me forever to finish this chapter, I actually rewrote it, this is obviously the edited version =P before it was Connor trying to talk Spike out of leaving, but Angel just seemed more fitting. Tell me whatcha think? I live for reviews- they fill me with joy! /\_/\ **


	13. Always

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of it's characters.**

**Warnings: Child Abuse. *tear falls* :'{**

* * *

"This is all your bloody fault, y'know?" Spike grumbled as they followed Connor's scent down yet another sewer tunnel.

Angel growled low in his throat, glaring daggers ahead of him, "How the hell is this only my fault, Spike? If anything it's both of ours,"

Spike muttered something that he knew Angel didn't catch, and slowly nodded his head, seemingly accepting what Angel had said, "This is the third trail with his scent on it, I don't think he wants to be found,"

Angel shook his head distractedly, "It's more than that, Spike… I don't think he did this on purpose to ensure we wouldn't find him, I don't think he knows where he's going, or what he's doing,"

"Well, in that case we had better-" but Spike never got to finish, as Angel flung his arm out in front of Spike's chest, nearly making him lose his balance on the wet ground.

"Do you smell that?" Asked Angel sniffing the air.

Spike quickly did the same his eyes going wide in the process as he whispered one simple word, "_Blood,_"

Angel took off, Spike speeding behind him, both glad for once in their lives that they didn't have a heart rate or the need for oxygen to slow them down.

* * *

Connor lied on his side on the dirty sewer floor, his eyes half lidded and drooping with his mind and body's exhaustion. He vaguely noticed the outline of the knife he'd used before- now lying discarded a few feet away from him. His arms were both carved up in the worst way, both nearly colored completely in red from his blood. His head was aching, and his gut felt like there were a thousand pins and needles sticking they're way inside of him. His vision was cloudy, his heartbeat was slowing down, and he wondered how much pressure he'd used near his vein.

He made a mistake. He did it too many times, too harshly, and over the same spot more than he should have. He didn't feel right. He felt like his body wasn't even there, he briefly wondered if it actually was before he saw his bloodied fingers twitch, but he didn't feel it. It was like he was watching the entire experience through a thick sheet of glass- he could see, hear, and smell. For instance could hear a rat a little distance off chewing on something metal, he could see his fingertips begin to twitch again, this time in a constant pattern. He could smell the scent of something very familiar but couldn't remember why it was, or where it was coming from. Maybe his body was on ice? Left there too long until all his nerve endings died with the death calling card that is hypothermia. He didn't know.

He thought that maybe he was dreaming as he heard two sets of footsteps coming his way- or when he smelt that oh, so familiar scent again; water springs, the smell of an Irish garden, and a scent that was just safe. He saw two hazy figures crowding in around him, the larger one running a hand across his neck, what his sluggish mind allowed him to realize was checking for a pulse. The other figure, a smaller build with so much white surrounding his head, was ripping pieces off of his shirt. As he saw the black material being wrapped around his limp arms like a tourniquet, he smelt another scent he recognized too; cigarette smoke, liquor, and the distinctive smell he believed to be ink.

He knew them, he loved them- he remembered that much, but everything else was a blur. He saw a pair of piercing brown eyes look into his own. He tried to open his dry mouth to speak; no words came out, just a faint whimpering noise coming from the back of his throat could be heard. And he knew that they could hear it, he just didn't know why.

He saw the ground beneath him drift further, and further away as the one that smelt safe carried him. He let his eyelids finally drift shut completely- knowing deep down that this wasn't meant to happen, and hoped that it would all be over soon.

* * *

"_You must be strong, Steven," Father said as he paced in front of a thin, small eight year old child, the boy's long thick brown hair falling in front of his face as he hung on his Father's every word._

"_Yes, father," he said, his voice sounding so weak and tiny, even to his own ears._

"_And you'll do anything I tell you to, to achieve this goal,"_

"_Yes, father,"_

"_Then you know what to do now?"_

_Steven nodded, biting harshly into his lower lip. He knew what was coming, but he knew he had to be strong- he was a warrior, strength was the most important weapon to their survival. Pulling his demon-skin shirt over his torso, he gripped it with his small hands as he kneeled on the sand covered ground, the color such a dark red it resembled that of blood._

_He inhaled deeply as he screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself. He didn't have to wait long as he felt the makeshift leather whip connect with the flesh of his back. His teeth sunk deeper into his lip as he tried to keep from crying out, breathing in deep controlled breaths. He didn't have time to prepare himself again as he felt another lashing, this time harsher with more anger to it. He heard the sickening slap of the leather as it bit into his skin, pelting him continuously as his eyes began to water and blood slithered down his chin, the skin of his lip split from his blunt teeth._

_Tiny whimpering sounds began escaping from his mouth no matter how hard he tried to be silent as the final act of his punishment came. The impact knocked him forward with exhaustion, and he was left with hundreds of red welts on his back in the wake of the harsh whip that he dreaded so._

_He saw Father's feet come into his line of view once his eyelids finally opened to the dark world. Father bent down to his eyelevel- placing a hand beneath his chin he roughly yanked it up and asked, his voice monotone, "You will always remember what I have taught you, won't you, Steven?"_

"_Y-yes, father," came his shaky answer, before his mind was suddenly ripped from the scene._

_

* * *

_

He was standing in a white room, the vast space seemingly endless. He moved slowly in a circle surveying his surroundings. There was nothing- no one there- no sound. It was eerily quiet. He swallowed hard feeling a lump form in his throat. "There's mama's precious little parasite," he heard a soft voice whisper from behind him. Spinning swiftly around he was met by ice blue eyes- the mirror image of his own.

He stood there, speechless as she gazed intently at him, her perfect blonde hair swept to the sides- her long white dress trailing at her feet. "You look so surprised. I take it you never expected to see your mother again after I plunged the stake through my chest in that alley then?"

"M-mother?" he stammered, his brain trying to comprehend what he was being told.

"Yes, darling boy… mother," she smiled down at him, "You shouldn't be here, it's not your time, baby,"

"W-where am I?" he asked peering at her with a hint of awe.

"Somewhere you shouldn't be," Darla said again, reaching out a hand to tenderly stroke his cheek.

"I don't understand… what happened?"

Darla sighed, running her fingers through Connor's unruly mop of brown hair before she answered, "You did this to yourself, baby, I was watching you- mama's always watching you. You cut your beautiful pale flesh, and in the process you sliced open your vein… and now you're here, with me,"

"Am I dreaming?"

Smiling, Darla shook her head, "No, your not dreaming. Your where people go when their souls are caught between worlds,"

"I-I am? Does that mean that I'm…"

"No, honey, your not dead, not yet," she said wrapping him snugly in her arms.

Connor closed his eyes, breathing in her scent never wanting to forget it, "Mom?"

"Yes?"

"I don't ever want to leave you," Connor felt something wet hit his head as he said this. Silence hitting the serene place instantly, he lifted his head from where he had it buried in his mother's chest- only to find that she was crying. "Mom, what's wrong?"

"I don't want you to leave either, but you have to,"

Connor stared at her, his own eyes becoming wet and bleary, "W-why?"

"Because, baby, you have to fight! If you don't then you won't get back to your father, you won't live!"

Connor hung his head, lowering himself down to the floor to sit with his legs crossed. He felt a thin hand lacing through his hair again, but kept his head low, chin nearly pressed to his chest. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay with his mother. The mother he never had- the mother who sacrificed her own life for the meaningless existence that was his. "No," he whispered, his open palms pressed firmly against his knees.

"There is no, no, baby! This is something you have to do! Your father needs you! He won't make it without you, and you know it!" she reasoned, lifting his head up with both hands on either side of his tearstained face.

"B-but I'm scared… Sp-Spike's leaving, and dad's always gone, and I'm always alone… I can't make it alone, mom, I can't handle it. I've never been alone, not truly, there's always been someone there to love m-me… or at least I think they did,"

"You think that man loved you? That spineless little coward hiding an entire dimension away from Angel, knowing what he would do to him if he found him- if he found you, his most precious treasure. I saw everything that man did to you. If I were alive I would have ripped out his organs one, by one, and force fed them down his bitter old throat!" she finished her blue orbs burning with bright fires within them.

Connor looked deep into her eyes- seeing the love, and care that they held. "It doesn't matter what he did to me, mom," he whispered, blinking away tears, but they continued to pour out relentlessly.

"It does matter!" Darla insisted, dropping her hands from Connor's face, to his own shaking bony ones, gripping them tightly. "He didn't love you, and deep down you know that," Connor looked away, but nodded at this, "I have loved you since the moment your little body began to grow inside of me, since you shared your beautiful soul with me. I loved you even before I allowed myself to admit to it. He may have said that he loved you, but did he ever prove it? No, he said he loved you, then he beat you until you passed out from the sheer physical strain of it,"

"I-I know… but he was all I had then," Connor choked out in between sobs.

"_Shh… _I know, Connor, I know. You have your father now, your real father, and I know he loves you just as much as I do. You should have seen how happy he was as he watched you on the monitor when we took the sonogram… the look on his face was simply that of unhindered joy, that's the only way to describe it. Do you see why you have to go back now?"

"Y-yes… but I need more time with you!"

Darla gave a sad smile, embracing him in her arms and with all the love she possessed, "I want that too, but we don't have much time left, you must go before it's too late,"

_

* * *

_

"It can't be good that he's crying this much while unconscious," Spike said solemnly, as he stared at the sobbing boy on the bed- truly a sad sight to see. Both arms were heavily bandaged with thick gauze, yet still he could see the slightest bit of blood beneath the surface of the last layer.

"I know that, Spike!" Angel snapped at him from his spot on the bed next to his son, his hand frantically running through the thick mess of hair.

Spike knew that Angel wasn't actually angry at him, he was just frightened that Connor hadn't woken up yet. He was more than frightened, Spike knew; he was scared shitless. He knew this for a fact because he was too.

* * *

"I'll never see you again if I go," Said Connor meekly, gripping his mother just as fiercely as she did him.

"Yes, yes you will! I'll be waiting here for you, and for your father when it's yours, and when it's his time to be with me, but now is not that time. What happened was an accident, I know you honestly didn't want to die tonight, I feel what you feel- I always have ever since you shared your soul with me, and you didn't feel the same as you did that night in the ocean. I know how your feeling baby, I feel every emotional and physical pain that you do. I watch over you every single day of your life since the moment you were born and I died, and I'll never truly leave you,"

"You promise you'll always be with me?"

"For eternity my darling boy," she whispered, pulling back to kiss him on the cheek.

Connor took a deep breath nodding his head slowly, "Okay, I-I'll go back home, but I'm not sure I know how,"

"That's okay, I know how, all you have to do is close your eyes," Darla said, wiping away the tears from her baby boy's face, "I do have one request though,"

"Anything," Connor said eagerly.

"Tell your father that whether he believes it or not, I did love him, and make sure he knows that I don't blame him for not getting to me in time, it was never his fault,"

"I will," Connor promised, hugging her tight one last time, "I love you mama," he whispered faintly.

"And I love you my darling boy," she whispered just as softly placing her hand over his eyes. "Just breathe," Darla instructed him, and so he did, listening as she repeated her sentence- her voice beginning to fade away.

* * *

Connor's head was spinning as his senses began returning to him. He felt a cold, yet somehow warm hand threaded lightly through his hair, lifting the fog slowly away from him. He felt like he should be awake, but was stuck in that semi-conscious state which wouldn't allow him to be fully aware of his surroundings.

His eyelids felt heavy as he let them flutter open, his vision blurry before it gradually came into focus. What had happened? His mind was sluggish, slowly processing that night's events.

"Connor?" he heard his father ask. He tried to answer him, but his throat was too dry, so he merely nodded that he had heard him speak. "Oh thank god your awake!" Angel said just before he wrapped Connor into a frantic hug.

Connor groaned in pain as Angel accidentally leaned against one of his injured arms. He regretted making the noise instantly as Angel quickly drew back, hurriedly checking him over several times. Connor shook his head- telling his father that he was fine, but this action didn't seem to help ease Angel's panic in the slightest bit.

"Angel, your pestering the kid," Spike said, coming to sit on the other side of the fragile looking boy, holding out a glass of water as Angel slowly helped Connor into sitting up slightly. "Here," he said handing it to Connor, who accepted it with a grateful smile, quickly draining the contents.

Leaning his head back against the headboard, Connor closed his eyes before spoke, "I-I thought you were leaving, Spike,"

He heard Angel sigh to his right, before he heard Spike answer, "I was… but things worked out differently. I'm staying, I promise,"

"And your okay with that?" he asked, blue eyes opening to peer up at his father, who gave a small smile and nodded.

"Okay," Connor whispered, staring blankly at the ceiling. He remembered everything that happened. He felt a little apathetic at best about it all. He wished more than anything that he could have stayed with his mother. He knew it wasn't a dream- that he really did see her, that everything she had said was true. She said that she would always be with him, but even so he felt like there was a hole left in his heart, as he grieved now for the first time over the loss of his mother.

"Connor, what's wrong?" Angel asked him wiping away his tears. Connor merely blinked remembering now that they were still there.

"What do you mean what's wrong?" Spike asked, making a face, "He bloody well slit his wrists not three hours ago- nearly died, is lying in a bed obviously contemplating the whole ordeal, and you ask him 'what's wrong'?"

"Shut up, Spike!" Angel hissed, "Your being insensitive!"

Spike merely gaped at him as if the thought that he could possibly be insensitive was the most ridiculous thing on the earth.

"It's not like I don't know what I did, dad," he muttered rolling his eyes.

Angel was silent, and Connor had a nagging feeling that he had said something wrong. Shifting his gaze back to the ceiling he brought his cold hand down to cover his father's, before he spoke meekly, "Spike, is it okay if I talk to my dad alone a minute?"

"Sure thing, puppy," Spike said as he stood, taking the empty glass in his hand to refill it once he made it to the kitchen. Spike shut the door behind him, and Connor listened as Spike's footsteps died down as he began to speak, "Dad, you… you know that I wasn't trying to…" he trailed off, seeing the look of hurt in Angel's eyes.

"I know," was Angel's whispered reply.

"I know I promised I wouldn't do this anymore, and I am truly and completely sorry for what I've done," Connor knew he was crying harder now, but he couldn't help it, he'd long since gave up on trying to conceal his emotions since that night when he broke down in his father's bathroom. "D-do you forgive me?"

"Always," Angel assured, stroking Connor's face tenderly.

"O-okay," he sniffled, "There's something else I need to tell you, but I don't know if you'll believe me,"

"I'll believe whatever it is you have to say, I love you,"

Connor gripped Angel's hand tighter as he began relaying his story of what happened after he had passed out. He could tell Angel wasn't completely convinced that it all hadn't been a dream, until he told him the message Darla gave him to pass along. Angel knew it wasn't all just in Connor's mind then, for Connor never knew how his mother was turned for the second time.

"I wanted to stay with her, dad," he whispered, "I was going to, she changed my mind,"

"She loved you very much, I know she wished you could've stayed, but you belong here with me now. I'm glad you came back,"

"I always come back, dad, I always do."

* * *

**A/N: I have come to the conclusion that I don't update this fic fast enough :/ but what can you do when your busy with other things… other fics… people… -.- anyway I hoped you liked the new chapter! O.O**


	14. Dreaming

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**A/N: Sorry it's been taking me longer to update. I write during the dead of night on my laptop, but I sadly have Dial Up which doesn't work on my PC (it rejects it like it's the freaking plague!) so I have to put the chapters on a USB drive **_**then**_** put them on my desktop, **_**then**_** post them. I sometimes don't have time to put them on the other computer. Well, that or I forget that I have the chapter finished for a few days… I'll try to be better about it ;} Hope you all like the new chapter!**

**

* * *

**

_Lies… it's all lies… there is no love- no such thing, only hate._

_It festers inside of you, and one day you'll _snap _and everyone you hold dear will suffer the consequences of what you have done._

_Pain…_

_Rage…_

_Torment…_

_Apathy…_

_Shame…_

_I can make it all go away; you just have to let me…_

_Come to me my Destroyer- come to me and set me free, and I shall do the same for you-_

_

* * *

_

Connor abruptly awoke from his deep slumber, slowly sitting up he gripped the bed sheets for all he was worth, trying to calm his breathing. He'd been dreaming every night since he blacked out in the sewer- they were dreams not nightmares, nightmares were frightening, these dreams were just unnerving and confusing. They were always the same; a big black void- complete and total darkness. Always with the same whispered voice of a woman speaking to him- pleading with him to come to her, saying she needed him, that he needed her.

He didn't know what they meant, but they had to mean something- if they didn't then he wouldn't be having them in the first place, at least not this often.

Sighing, he ran a shaky hand through his recently cleaned hair- the faint scent of his father's shampoo still lingering in his brown locks.

Two weeks; that's how long it'd been since his breakdown, well his most recent one anyway. He'd had so many in his lifetime, hell, in the last year alone, that it was getting hard to distinguish them all. Angel had barely left the hotel since then, and though Connor was grateful for this, he felt guilty for it as well. Gunn and Spike had to pick up all the slack from Angel staying home with Connor all the time. Gunn was starting to look a little worse for wear, and all the constant day and night fighting was beginning to grind Spike's nerves, Connor could tell.

He loved having his father home with him, though. Angel had spent so many months working constantly that Connor had begun to question what exactly he was doing, But Angel kept to his story, and Connor didn't want to press the matter, deciding that it was best to trust in what his father told him.

Though as much as he loved having Angel around, he was beginning to feel a little smothered. Angel was always at his side- making all of his food; then forcing him to eat it. Trying to teach him about history- which to Connor's surprise was actually rather interesting. But he'd become very paranoid of anything that could possibly be used to hurt Connor, removing and locking up any and all weapons- going as far as hiding the kitchen knives from him. He'd even lectured Gunn about leaving his pocket knives around, well, he didn't lecture so much as he ordered and frightened him, really.

He slept in Connor's room most nights, or wherever Connor would choose to sleep that night, and if he didn't he would sleep outside of the door. It was frustrating, his father's lack of trust, though he had done nothing to earn it, he wished desperately that he had.

He glanced over at the plush armchair that had been moved into his room, his father's sleeping form still unmoving- his elbow on the armr, his head rested in one hand. He was glad he hadn't disrupted Angel's sleep, he needed some time alone, time without a constant presence who could practically read his thoughts as if they were written clearly across his face. Sliding from beneath the covers, he padded as quietly as possible to the door. Twisting the knob slowly, he pulled open the wooden door, thankful as it just barely made an audible noise. He peered over his shoulder, seeing Angel still fast asleep, and stepped into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Connor inhaled deeply, loving the scent as the wind blew lightly through his hair. He loved coming up here. The roof had quickly become his favorite spot at the hotel, especially since he wasn't allowed to go outside or leave the hotel unsupervised. Even the sewer tunnels were locked; though that was understandable considering the last time he took them it hadn't ended quite well.

Lying on his back, he folded his arms behind his head, eyes staring up at the full moon. He really loved the moon. He couldn't believe how many simple things he'd missed out on from growing up in Quor'toth. The moon there had been blood red, standing out gruesomely against the pitch black sky. The sun on the other hand was a deep orange- scorching hot almost as if you were standing merely a hundred feet from it. He hated the feeling it gave him, it was like his skin were going to melt away.

"How long have you been up here?" Connor smiled at the familiar accented voice, having not spoken to him for a few days now.

"A little while," Connor shrugged as best as he could from his lying position.

"Does your dad know?" Spike asked, coming to sit beside him, pulling out a smoke in the process.

Connor glanced over at him- eyeing the cigarette with mild distaste before he spoke, "No, he's asleep, but I doubt he'll care too much now that you're up here with me," Spike noticed Connor's disdain for his nicotine, and gave an exasperated sigh, putting it back in the half empty package. The corners of Connor's mouth lifted up as he spoke again- knowing that he was the only one that could keep Spike from smoking at times, "And it's not as if I'll be flinging myself off of the roof anytime soon, and even if I did, it wouldn't kill me,"

Spike narrowed his dark blue eyes down at him, a frown gracing his lips, "Must you act so nonchalant about nearly killing yourself twice within the last year?"

Smile slipping, Connor averted his eyes, feeling a stab of guilt constrict his chest, "I'm sorry… I just… I don't want to make it a big deal, I want- _god_, I don't know! I just want to forget about it- for others to forget it ever happened, for things to be… _normal_, whatever the hell that even means,"

Spike sighed, lying back next to Connor, resting his hands on his stomach, "I know, I know, but it's serious, and no matter how much you pretend like you don't get that, I know that you do. _And…" _Spike paused, taking a breath, "And it bothers your father."

The last sentence hung in the air, the silence thick as Connor shut his eyes. He knew that it bothered Angel, of course he knew. He knew his father almost better than he knew himself, though, he barely understood himself, and why he did the things he did. It was obvious that he was making Angel uncomfortable when he would make a comment about how _this _would kill him, or how _that_ wouldn't. He didn't do it to make Angel feel guilty or hurt. He wasn't sure why he did it exactly; he just didn't know how to handle the extent of what he had done. He thought that maybe if he made light of it, then it wouldn't be as awful as it was.

"Y'know how the big poof is, though," Spike finally broke the silence, knowing what he'd said hurt Connor, even if it was only slightly, he wanted to fix it.

"Yeah," Connor whispered, bringing his icy orbs back up to gaze at the moon yet again, "It's so pretty here," he murmured, more to himself than the peroxide blonde beside him.

"What is?"

"The moon… the sky… the way it feels," he sighed, "It was so different in Quor'toth, so… heated, so… angry,"

There was a pause before Spike finally asked the question Connor had been expecting, "What was it like for you there?"

Connor let his eyelids drift shut in recollection, "There was sand everywhere, it was rare to find a spot that didn't have it. It wasn't normal sand like here at the beach, though, it was dark red, and so much harsher- the wind storms were almost deadly, they could scrape the skin right off of your body if you were out in them long enough,"

He opened his eyes, letting his head fall to the side to peer at Spike curiously- wanting to see the expression on his face. It was blank, so Connor gave up and continued, "It was so hot all the time, it never cooled down… it's not like here, sure it's California and hot for the most part, but it was like being next to flames constantly, it made it so hard to sleep. I never slept at night- that's why it's still hard for me to here sometimes. I had to stay up and protect…" he trailed off, sighing, "_You know… _I slept for a few hours, and then I would hunt a lot; it's all I knew how to do, really,"

"I'm sorry," Spike said, not knowing what else to say.

Connor groaned to himself- so tired of hearing that phrase, "Don't be, _'sorry' _doesn't change a thing, nothing will. And… it wasn't as bad as everyone acts like it was, I mean how would they even know what it was like; they weren't there. I was, and I don't even have any scars from it, not even from…" he trailed off again, sitting, and then bringing his knees up to his chest.

"Not even from what?" Asked Spike, following suite and sitting with his legs out in front of him.

"It's nothing, not important,"

"Yes it is," Spike said, placing a hand on Connor's shoulder, "Tell me,"

Connor relented, nodding his head. He felt nervous about relaying this to Spike when he never told anyone before in his life, "I was going to say… Not even from all the times _he_ hit me for being _what I am,_"

He heard Spike gasp, it wasn't loud, on the contrary, it was so low Connor barely even heard it. The hand that rested on his shoulder came to wrap around him in a hug, Connor welcomed it, though, he wanted to hide away from the world- feeling more vulnerable now than he had in awhile.

"I'm so sor-"

"Please," Connor cut him off, his voice meek, "Please don't say that again… there's nothing that you can do about it now, and I am honestly so sick of all the pity,"

"Alright," Spike whispered, "Whatever you say, pup,"

"Thanks, Spike,"

"For what?"

Connor peered over at the vampire beside him, and gave a small smile, "I don't know, I just felt like I needed to say that… maybe… I guess I'm just glad you decided to stay,"

"I am too,"

Minutes passed with no words spoken, when suddenly Connor let out a long yawn, "_Ahhh…_"

"Tired?" Spike asked a grin gracing his features.

Connor shook his head, though; he knew that he was, he didn't want to go back to sleep- still slightly irked by his persistent dreaming.

Spike rolled his eyes at this, seeing the attempt to fight off sleep written clearly across Connor's pale young face, "Your just like your father, you know that?"

"I guess… I don't know… what do you mean?" Connor asked, gazing up at Spike with a puzzled expression.

"Well, your mannerisms sometimes are so similar, it's uncanny," Spike supplied, running a lithe hand through his bleached hair, "And your personalities can be alike too; god knows you both are as stubborn as they come,"

"Not really," Connor murmured, then looked down as Spike eyed him disbelievingly. He relented, "Okay, so… maybe we are a tiny bit alike… I mean we both have self-hatred issues and suicidal tendencies so we are more alike than I normally would admit to,"

Spike stared a moment, then spoke, needing to confirm what he was thinking, "So, you know about?…"

"Yeah, he told me about it, about how it snowed," Connor muttered, picking absentmindedly at the rooftop.

"It makes you think doesn't it, about how both times you didn't die," Spike said, staring at Connor face searching for emotion.

"Yeah… it _does,_" Connor said, the last word coming out as another yawn.

"Are you tired _now?_"

"Yeah," Connor nodded, standing up. He felt a little relief after talking to Spike, he always did. Spike understood, and even if he didn't he would always listen to whatever Connor had to say, regardless. Albeit, Angel would understand too, Connor still couldn't bring himself to open up fully to his father. He wasn't sure why, but deep in the back of his head, one word came to mind; _shame._ Shame kept him from telling his father a lot of things, and he knew he would have a hard time getting over it.

Breathing in the night air one last time, he began his trek to his father's room, wanting to sleep in the big bed with the fluffy duvet that smelt like his dad, even though Angel wouldn't be in the room, he would be in Connor's. But Connor didn't want to talk to him right now, and if he went back in his own room he would surely wake him up.

He wanted things to be okay again, but he knew that they wouldn't be for a long time. For trust was lacking between him and the most important member of his family, and until things were fully mended, the tension was going to be thick.

* * *

**A/N: Glad to have this chapter finally out. It's been written for awhile, but I just didn't like it really, so I rewrote most of it and now it doesn't completely suck anymore! Yay! And if you read my other fic; 'This You Can Keep' (which I doubt you do) the chapters for that are coming very slowly, but I **_**will**_** keep posting new ones. **

**Not sure how many more chapters this fic will have… not **_**too**_** many more I guess… whenever I feel it's done to me, and I'm not sure when that will be. There could end up being about 30 chapters for all I know! O.O I know what I want to happen, but am not sure how long it will take me to get there.**

**Oh and I recently discovered the Grammar Check I have! So my grammar should be much better than before! And… (sorry to keep adding more notes) pretty soon I'm going to re-edit Monsoon. It was my first fic, and quite frankly the grammar is pretty awful, I'm not gonna lie. X_X**

***hugs!* -Allie**


	15. Arguments

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**A/N: Finally an update! Yay! Don't hate me for taking too long please! Shortish chapter but I just really wanted to get **_**something**_** posted y'know? Working on the next chapter now so my deadline for that (and this is very flighty mind you) is… maybe a week from now? Sound good?**

* * *

"Dad," Connor said slowly, drumming his fingertips against the countertop somewhat angrily, "I do not want anymore pancakes," he stared heatedly at the offending plate of food in front of him- its fluffy texture smothered in syrup. It slithered down the side of the plate and Connor watched with disdain as it dripped down onto the once shiny-clean table.

"Please, Connor," Angel said, pushing the plate over more towards his son, frustration creasing his forehead, "You only had one,"

Shoving the plate away, Connor stood, arms crossed, "_Exactly!_" he hissed, still leering at the food, "I had one! That should be enough for you! The more you try to force me, the less I want, so please, _please,_ just stop!"

Angel sighed loudly, banging his hands down on the counter, "I can't, Connor! Because if I do, you won't eat at all! You can't get any smaller! It's not healthy!"

Connor flinched, unused to the anger directed towards him, but unwilling to give in, "I'll never be healthy! Not in any sense! We both know that! I'm a lost cause- I'm fucked up without a cure! You just won't admit it to yourself!"

"No your not!" Angel said, his voice booming loud, nearly reverberating off of the walls, his last nerve completely frayed, "You _will_ get better, you just have to give a damn about yourself!"

And then it happened. Connor wasn't sure what made him do it, but something in him snapped, what Angel said getting to him in the worst way. He picked the syrup drenched plate up and threw it hard against the wall opposite him- watching wide-eyed as it shattered, the noise it made once it broke, sounding so very loud to his sensitive ears.

Eyes still huge, he looked up at Angel only to see something he dreaded. The look on Angel's face nearly broke his heart- which was already weighed down heavily with all the pent up guilt he'd accumulated over the last few weeks, as it was. What he saw when he gazed at his father was something he hadn't seen since the night he was banished from the hotel.

Anger was the first thing Connor noticed. Yes, anger, he could see it clearly, but that wasn't the only thing written for Connor to read; he saw weeks of Angel's frustration with him painted there, along with the hurt he'd seen since he awoke back at the hotel. And if he examined closely enough, he could see a sadness that was camouflaged so deeply, that he could barely tell it was there.

But it was. It was there and it had been ever since he trapped him on the bottom of the coral covered ocean floor- something Angel claimed he forgave him for, but Connor had his doubts.

He sat there staring at his father's face for a second longer, before the calm Angel was now showing, that Connor didn't deserve, broke him down. Tearing his gaze away from Angel, he shut his eyes as he felt tears begin to prickle at them. Leaning his body forward he held his face in his trembling hands, as he fought hard not to cry.

He hated this, hated the way things were between him and Angel now. Such arguments as this had been happening more and more frequently- _None this bad, though…_ he thought as he began muttering- not sure what exactly he was saying.

"I don't… I don't give a damn," his voice was raspy, strained by tears, "I'm not worth it to give a damn- I have no worth… I'm nothing; I'm just… _here,_" his voice cracked on the last word, as he felt his father quickly bring him into a hug. It was apologetic, Connor could tell by the way Angel was silent- the way he simply held him tighter than he ever had before, as if he were afraid that Connor would sink into the countertop and wither away.

The minutes passed by, mostly consisting of Connor's now, incoherent muttering of sadness, before finally, Connor stopped. He let his mouth go a little slack, his eyes drooping, before he snapped his jaw shut and looked up to peer at his father now.

Angel merely sat there with him- eyes watery with unshed tears, as he rocked Connor slowly. Connor couldn't help but to wonder if this soothing act was for him or for Angel- either way he didn't much care, appreciating it all the same. There was no doubt that he needed Angel- it was evident in the way that he would cling to him as though, if he didn't then the world would come crashing down around him, he, himself crumbling to dust along with it. But in this very moment, he suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed- he needed now, to be alone.

Clearing his throat, he averted his eyes before he spoke, "Dad, I… can I leave?" his voice was small as he asked this. "I'd like to be… by myself,"

Angel was quiet for a long time before he answered, his tone guarded, "Sure," he released Connor, standing awkwardly beside his son as he arose from his chair. Sighing, Connor hugged Angel briefly one more time before swiftly disappearing into the lobby- beginning his trek up the stairwell and to his room, where he shut and locked the door, collapsing on top of the bed, curling up on his side, gripping himself as if he were cold. Though the winter had passed by, and the warm sun shone brightly behind his bedroom curtains- he shivered just as he used to every night he'd spent in the darkest of dark worlds.

* * *

_I'll set you free; I'll take all your fear away. I'll show you things that even you couldn't imagine. Everyone in this dimension will know your name- your true name; Destroyer…_

_You cannot deny what you are; who you are. They won't deny it- they didn't deny it when you were just an infant- they all wanted you. All of them for their worship, for their sacrifices, for their own needs… but I am not like that my Destroyer. I want whatever you want. Unchain my bounds my sweet masochist and I swear to you that I will never abandon you like all the other's did; like they all will-_

_

* * *

_

"Connor!" he heard as he was shaken awake- clenching his eyes tighter as he slowly became conscious. He groaned as a light was turned on overhead, the brightness of it making the backs of his eyelids appear a reddish color. "Pup, you alright?" he felt a poke to his shoulder, as Spike's other hand came to lift open an eyelid, making him growl at the blonde vampire.

"I am fine," he muttered, shutting his eyes again, but then opened them suddenly, "Quit fucking poking me, damn it!" he hissed, glaring up at the face above him.

"You were mumbling things in your sleep. Had me worried, you did. Were you having a nightmare?" Spike asked as he brought his hands back to his sides, abandoning his constant poking.

Huffing, Connor got up, stretching his back as he did. "No, it was nothing,"

Spike rolled his eyes, "Didn't sound like nothing when you were over here whimpering things like, 'no, leave me alone. I don't want to.' Sounded like you were about to be violated, actually," Spike concluded, with a contemplative tilt of his head. "You weren't, were you?"

Connor merely stared blankly at Spike, before he finally asked, "What the hell, Spike?"

Spike shrugged, with a simple explanation, "I'm on little to no sleep,"

Nodding, Connor sat back down, suddenly feeling a slight wave of guilt pass through him as he realized how poor his behavior was truly becoming lately. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry you've been doing all the work lately. I'd help, but dad still isn't allowing me within five feet of sharp and shiny things," Connor's voice was sympathetic, as he unintentionally gave Spike his perfected puppy eyes.

"I know you would, pup," he said, amused smile on his face, "But it's really not as hard as I make it out to be. You know me, always wanting special treatment. I'm just trying to get captain forehead to put me on the payroll,"

"You mean he doesn't pay you?" Connor asked, a little stunned.

Shrugging, Spike replied, "No he doesn't, but I'm living here for free, so I can't really complain," though Connor knew that complaining was something Spike did quite often and was fairly skilled at.

"_Riiight._" he said with an eye roll- which Spike promptly ignored.

"So, you okay, then?"

"Five by five,"

Spike gave him a skeptical look, but didn't call Connor out on his obvious lie. "If you say so," he stood, preparing to leave, not wanting to push the matter any further. "I'm going to go catch up on some sleep. Just because I'm undead doesn't mean I want to be like those damn zombies. _Flesh eating wankers…_" And then he was gone, with a soft click as the door closed behind him- leaving Connor alone with only his thoughts that always seemed to do more harm help…

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**A/N: I know this chapter is shit! I'm sorry! I haven't updated in… I don't even know anymore how long it's been… I promise I'll try to update more frequently from now on. Especially since this story will more than likely be over with soon. **

**I hope you guys didn't just give up on me and quit reading! This story will be finished! I promise! And I'll hopefully rewrite Monsoon before long. I've just been writing other things and… well, kinda forgot about this fic to be honest. Won't happen again.**


	16. Come to me

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

* * *

He couldn't take this much longer. This damn room, with these damn blue walls that made his chest tight. He stood in the corner, his skin practically crawling as his eyes darted around the four blue walls that consisted of his bedroom.

Why was he even in his room? Oh, yeah. He had another one of those 'teenage mood swings' that Fred and Gunn kept whispering behind his back about- like he couldn't hear them.

It was the first time he'd ever been sent to his room by Angel. And Angel wasn't even angry, just… hurt. Connor hated that he caused the pain in his eyes, but he'd already apologized and now there wasn't much else he could do about it.

_You never cared enough…_

_You left me alone…_

_You abandoned me to hell…_

_You're the reason why everything in my life sucks, the reason why I did what I did to myself…_

He regretted them the moment he'd said them. He knew they hurt. He could even see shock on Spike's face as he spoke them, and he knew he was completely wrong if _Spike _was shocked. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he stop hurting the ones he loved? Why didn't he think before he opened his damned mouth that only ever got him into trouble?

He knew why. It was bottled up, it all was. All the feelings. The frustration. The loneliness that was cutting in deeper. His dreams that just refused to go away. He was a freak. He couldn't do anything without hurting someone. His name was the Destroyer after all. He wished now, not for the first time, that things could've been different… That Holtz never would have taken him. That he never would've done the unforgivable things that he'd done.

He hated to think this way though. It only encouraged his mind- already prone to bitterness to think this way even more so. His mind was bitter and, his heart was resentful. It always had been and it was always so hard to break old habits.

He needed to act now. Needed to break something- to hurt it, to make something bleed… He needed to get all of his feelings out now, in the only way he really knew how. Though it wasn't healthy, and it wasn't the right way to handle his growing depression- he needed it. And that was really all that mattered.

* * *

There was no one. Nothing was there. All he asked for was something demonic and evil to hit and break. And there was _nothing._ It figured the one time he'd enjoy the killing the most, all the big bad's were in hiding. It was eerie in a way. Where did they all go? And why? Normally things couldn't wait for him to be out alone- 'vulnerable' in their eyes- an easier prey. But they all soon learned that Connor was no one's prey and he'd do anything it took to gain the kill.

"_Damn it,_" he cursed, kicking hard into the brick wall, feeling it shudder under his strength. Pulling back his fist he punched the brick with all that he had. Repeating the action over, and over again. "Why," _PUNCH!_ "Can't," _PUNCH!_ "Anything," _PUNCH!_ "Ever," _PUNCH!_ "Work out," _PUNCH!_ "The way," _PUNCH!_ "It should?" he practically screamed, his fist connecting with the wall for the last time, leaving a hole in the once tough cement.

Connor sighed, gazing down numbly at his now bloodied knuckles. His heart was hammering in his chest from his violent lash out, but still, he didn't feel any better and that just made him angrier. He _never _felt any better. Nothing ever worked. The only thing that did he couldn't do anymore… At least not without hurting the only people that mattered. Spike had already told him that if he caught him with anymore scars, not only would Angel be breathing down his neck twenty-four/seven, but Spike would be right along with him. And unlike Angel, Spike wouldn't be so quietly there, so much as loud and in his face.

"All I'm asking for is at least one vampire, one demon, hell I'd even take a werewolf at this point," he muttered to himself, head pressed lightly to the harsh wall.

_I can give you that…_

Connor's eyes shot wide open at the feminine voice resounding in his head, only this time the voice sounded slightly deeper. He wasn't asleep… At least he didn't think he was. He couldn't be. He wasn't in the void that always surrounded him when he heard the voice.

_I'll give you whatever your heart desires. You can take whatever you want and, whatever you take shall be yours. _

_You want love? I can show you love like you've never experienced before in your life. We can have everything. And all you have to do is _come to me…

He knew this was real and, that it wasn't just his already fragile mind unraveling even more so than it had before. But he was confused, afraid, even about what he should do… Could he trust this unknown voice, this entity that had yet to make itself physically known to him? His mind was constantly afflicting with itself and, he longed desperately for it to stop, for some form of peace, for a sense of equilibrium. Could this voice provide this for him?

_I can my Destroyer; I can give you that and more._

It could hear him? Was it always able to, or was tonight merely special? He needed to know. He needed to know everything and, he had a feeling deep inside that this voice could answer every question he'd ever asked. And he was willing to do nearly anything for the knowledge that he greatly craved.

"Where do I go?" he whispered aloud, the question stinging on his tongue as a thought of his father flashed through his mind. He would be so upset when he found out about what Connor was going to do.

_Let your instincts guide you and, you'll know… _Came the faint reply as Connor felt the presence, whatever it was, leave him for the moment. As he had a nagging feeling, that though, this voice presented itself as woman, it really wasn't.

"My instincts, _riiight…_"They used to be so finely tuned when he was in Quor'toth, but he feared that he'd lost that since he lived in LA, he feared that he'd grown too weak. But everything was worth a try, right? Yes. He decided, peering up at the sky, trying to determine where exactly he should go.

"Let your instincts guide you…" he mused, eyes lingering briefly on the moon, before he sucked in a steadying breath and began to head north.

He was still afraid, but found that he honestly didn't care anymore. He hoped he was going the right way, though another part of him hoped that he wasn't, unsure and, slightly shocked at what he was doing. Following the advice of some unknown, possibly psycho, bodiless voice that could very well be out for his blood. Yeah, it was official. He was insane. Though he'd known that for many years now.

But when it came down to it, Connor was curious. And Connor's curiosity and need to be wanted always got the best of him.

* * *

Connor slowed his pace as he approached a vacant warehouse. _It's always a warehouse… _he thought, stopping in front of the double doors. He gazed nervously up at the building, debating whether or not he was actually going to open the doors and step inside. If he did, what would be waiting for him? _Only one way to find out…_

Opening the door, he walked cautiously inside- his eyes absorbing the room for any given threat. The building was surprisingly nice considering the state of grime the outside was in. Candles were lit, lining the walls, couches were arranged in the middle of the large room, there was a king sized bed in the far right corner and, a small kitchen-like area to the left. And there standing in the center of all the coaches, stood a man.

He had long shoulder length, black, hair that framed his face perfectly, the shadow it provided making the structure of his jaw appear more prominent and, demanding. His mouth was curved up in a seemingly pleasant smile and, his piercing grey eyes bore into Connor's making him stop dead in his tracks.

"My Destroyer, you've come," the man stated, smile never leaving his face.

Connor blinked several times before nodding.

"Come, have a seat," the man insisted, coaxing Connor forward with his index finger.

Connor was hesitant at first, eying the man with suspicion, before he trailed slowly behind him, taking a seat on the couch across from him.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Destroyer," the man said once seated.

Swallowing, Connor spoke, "It's Connor… actually."

"Oh, right. And how rude of me, I didn't introduce myself; my name is Averon Shiva De'mara, but you may call me Avery for short," Avery said, extending his hand for Connor to shake.

Connor stared for a few moments before taking it, pulling his hand back quickly afterwards. "I don't understand why you want me here… or why you disguised your voice when you would contact me,"

"I shall explain all in good time, Connor. But as for the voice, well, I assumed you would be more willing and, more trusting if it were a feminine voice that you heard instead of my own. I hope you don't think disdainfully of me for it,"

"No, I guess I don't," Connor murmured, his composure calming slightly, as he began to feel more at ease.

"Good, I wouldn't want us to get off on the wrong foot. Can I offer you a drink?"

Connor bit his lip, before nodding, mumbling a quiet "Sure."

He didn't understand what he was doing anymore. Sneaking out of the hotel- yet again. Sitting on a strangers couch, in a warehouse no less, and accepting a drink from him? Angel would not approve and, for some reason that just made him want to do it all the more.

Smiling nervously, he accepted the chilled drink from Avery, taking a sip; he grimaced slightly at the bitter aftertaste, realizing that it was liquor. Staring down at the drink in his hand, he waited for Avery to say something, all the while wondering if his dad even noticed that he was gone yet, or if he was still too hurt to try to face him.

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**A/N: Oh! The plot thickens hehe. And yes I did just pull a Joss Whedon with my cliff hanger. ^_~**


	17. Stop

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**Warnings: Ehhh…. Creepiness… I guess? And language. **

**A/N: Oh! Looky! Longer chapter! ^-^**

* * *

Connor stared down at his glass, realizing that it was nearly empty. He sloshed the remaining liquid around in the bottom of it, blinking his eyelids slowly.

"Would you like some more?" Avery asked, bottle of champagne in hand. Connor glanced up, before nodding. "I didn't realize you were such a drinker, Connor," Avery said as he tipped the bottle over the rim of the wine glass, careful not to let it spill over the top.

"I didn't know I was either," Connor said, taking another sip of champagne. "Can you tell me why I'm here, now?" he asked for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

Avery gave him another one of his sly smiles, as this time when he sat back down he chose to sit beside Connor. "Because, I need someone like you, Connor,"

"…Why? What do you need me for?" Connor asked, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded- which he blamed on the alcohol. Though, he had a gut feeling that this new haziness had nothing to do with his drinking.

"All I need you to do is be yourself- be who really are inside. Be that absolute raw power that I've seen you become," Avery explained, his knee touching Connor's as he moved in closer to him. "I need you to be who you were in Quor'toth. I need you to be who you were born to be- who your destined to be once again; the_ Destroyer,_" he whispered the last word, and Connor shivered as he kept leaning in towards him.

But Connor didn't move- he couldn't. His heart was pounding frantically in his chest and, his eyes had grown wide as he realized too late, exactly what Avery was about to do.

He kept watching as Avery threaded his fingers through his hair, and pulled him in so very close, that he actually began to feel claustrophobic at their proximity. He didn't like this, and though, he didn't want to admit it to himself he was beginning to feel afraid. And that fear only intensified as Avery crushed his lips to his own.

Connor tried to pull away, but Avery held his head firmly in place, seemingly stronger than he first appeared. Connor wanted to fight- he wanted to run as far away from Avery as possible, but he couldn't. Avery wouldn't let him, and he knew now that whatever Avery was, it was far from human and extremely powerful.

He inwardly cringed as he felt Avery's tongue begin to slide across his bottom lip, and as it slowly pushed its way inside of his unwilling mouth, he whimpered what sounded a lot like; "_Stop._"

But Avery didn't. Instead he plunged his tongue deeper inside, as Connor shut his eyes tightly trying so hard to move- to do _anything, _besides sitting stark still on a predators couch, merely waiting for him to have his way with him.

Finally- after what felt like an eternity, Avery's mouth left Connor's- only to move lower and press harsh kisses down onto his neck, nibbling at his pulse point. Connor's eyes shot open then, as he bit into his lip hard each time Avery did the same to his neck.

_MOVE!_ He screamed in his head, but his body wouldn't comply. And he didn't understand why it was betraying him so. He wasn't sure, but he felt like there was some unseen force keeping him frozen to his spot. He hated this. He hated it so much. It brought back the memory of something he'd buried down so deep, that even he had nearly forgotten about it.

Shuddering as Avery snaked his hand up, underneath his baggy t-shirt, he whispered, "_Please stop,_" his voice sounded so weak and fragile to his own ears- he couldn't imagine how helpless he sounded to Avery. And if there was one thing he'd learnt in Quor'toth; it was that the helpless were always the easiest prey.

Avery pulled back then- his eyes holding a feral glint as they bore into Connor's. "Why? Are you not enjoying yourself?" he asked, and Connor knew then that he would have to be very careful about what he said, afraid of angering the man before him.

"N-no, it's not that… I… it's just… my dad. He'll worry if I don't get home soon," he said, though, he wondered if Angel even noticed he was gone yet. He averted his eyes as Avery's own narrowed slightly as if he knew what he had just been thinking- and Connor realized with a chill that he probably did.

He took a deep breath as he waited for Avery's reply- becoming more and, more nervous as each second ticked by. Then, finally, he heard him speak, "I suppose we wouldn't want your father to worry, now, would we…" It wasn't a question, Connor knew, and it sounded condescending as each word moved past his lips. "Would you like me to walk you back to the hotel?"

Connor didn't know how to reply. What was he to say? 'No, because your psychotic and trying to molest me'. _Yeah. That'd go great- he'd probably kill me where I'm sitting… if he didn't try to _take _me first…_

"Uh… it's not that I don't want you to… it's just my dad… he's overprotective- extremely so, and is going to be mad enough that I snuck out, if he sees you he'll go off the deep end," he stared down as he said this- eyes locked on Avery's knee touching his own, wanting desperately to shove it away.

"Ah… you wish to go alone then?"

Connor nodded, "If… that's okay with you?" he asked, the words burning on his tongue like cyanide as he spoke them. He loathed acting this way- so submissive, but his instincts told him that if he didn't, then he wouldn't ever get to leave. _Hmm… maybe my instincts aren't as fucked up as I thought…_

"Why, of course it is, my dear," Avery smiled as he said this, though, Connor could tell that it was false. "I want whatever makes you feel comfortable."

"So… I can leave now?"

"If you insist that you must go, then, yes."

"I don't want him to be angry at me," came Connor's meek voice, as he looked up with deadpan eyes, attempting to distance himself from Avery.

"Of course," Avery said standing and pulling Connor up, along with him.

Slowly, he began to lean his head in closer to Connor's, and Connor fought hard against himself to not flinch away- all the while thinking; _I just have to make it out the door… _

He dulled his mind to the moment as Avery's lips came in contact with his for the second time that night- though, this time the contact was only brief, and Connor thanked whatever higher power or god out there that it was.

Avery detangled himself from Connor, then smiling, said, "I'll be seeing you soon, Connor."

"Okay," Connor muttered, making his was back to the double doors- trying hard to control his pace and not appear too eager to be leaving. He snuck a look over his shoulder once his hand touched the knob, and cringed slightly at the hungry look that still lurked within the depths of Avery's eyes. Snapping his head forward, he pulled the door open and finally stepped outside.

As the door shut lightly behind him, he sucked in a deep breath before he took off into a sprint, which quickly became faster.

His heart still beating like a humming bird's wings against his ribcage, he didn't stop until he was a good nine miles away from Avery and the chilling way that he gazed at him; so penetrating and malevolent.

He hunched over at the waist, his arm clutching his now aching stomach, as his chest heaved with each heavy pant, until finally he collapsed to his knees- a sob escaping past his lips before he could stop it. He'd blocked it out and now this person- no this thing with sinister eyes- was bringing it all back. And he dreaded the day when it would come crashing in on him, and resurfaced.

* * *

"Connor!" Angel yelled, as Connor walked slowly through the lobby doors. "Where the hell have you been?"

Connor didn't answer, as he continued walking- head bowed, hands wrapped around his slight frame, as his mind dwelled on memories that he'd thought he'd forgotten. He didn't even notice that he wasn't alone in the room until Angel intercepted his path to the stairwell, and Connor walked head first into him.

"Connor?" Angel asked, only this time softer, gazing at Connor with immense worry. "Where've you been?"

"_What?_" Connor gasped breathily, lifting his head only to stare into chocolate brown irises. "Oh… Hi dad," he whispered, bringing his eyes back to the floor, too ashamed to hold his father's gaze.

"Where did you go?" Angel's voice became firmer, and Connor could tell even in his erratic state of mind that Angel was furious with him for leaving the hotel without telling him.

"I… I didn't go anywhere," he lied, not really sure why he did, but he had a feeling that it had something to do with his ever growing fear. He could practically feel it crawling up his spine- making his stomach churn and, his heart sound loudly in his ears. He was beginning to miss the days in Quor'toth when he felt no fear- when he wasn't capable of it- when it was merely a foreign word that he didn't understand. The days when all he understood; was rage.

"You're lying," Angel said, taking Connor's chin in his hand and forcing him to look at him.

"I- No, I'm not," he couldn't stop the lies now. They kept pouring from his mouth, like the blood used to pour from his arm each time he would take the blade to his flesh.

"_Connor,_" Angel said so harshly, that Connor was taken aback. "I know you're lying to me. You have no reason to. I have told you time and, time again that, no matter what you do, I will always love you, I might be angry at you, but I will still love you. Do you understand?"

Connor tried to pull his face from Angel's grasp as he felt tears spring to his eyes, but couldn't as his father was unrelenting. "I c-can't tell y-you," he managed to choke out as his body shook with a sudden sob- clutching at his abdomen as his stomach resumed it's persistent ache.

Angel's demeanor immediately changed, from, angry, concerned parent, ready to scold his reckless child to- terrified papa bear, wanting nothing more than to soothe his weeping baby boy, and tear whoever or, whatever had hurt him, limb from, limb.

"Why? What happened?" Asked Angel, releasing his son's face only to wrap his arms around Connor's shaking form as he lead him over to sit down on the round couch.

Connor didn't answer- merely shaking his head, as he gripped Angel fiercely. He couldn't begin to decipher the dam of emotions that had broken open and were overflowing within him. He hated himself, but mostly he hated Avery- god, how he hated him. He hated the feel of his lips pressed to his own- the way his spindly fingers had traveled across the bare skin of his chest- the harsh way his tongue had entered his mouth. But mostly, he hated the way that his blunt teeth had sunk into his neck with no concern or care, about the trauma that it would cause Connor later on.

How was he to tell his father- the strongest person he knew- that he'd allowed such things to be done to him? That he was too weak to stop it and, had he not been thinking fast, would have endured much worse things that he couldn't bear to even imagine.

"You have to tell me what's wrong, son or, I can't fix it."

"You c-can't fix it, dad," Connor whimpered, burying his face in the vampire's shirt as he sobbed harder.

Angel's brow furrowed, as he rubbed soothing circles on Connor's shuddering back. "Why? What did you do? Whatever it is, I won't be mad at you, I promise."

"I-I…" Connor trailed off, shaking his head vigorously. He couldn't think clearly. His thoughts were crashing through his mind like a tsunami through the ocean. And he couldn't help but to think; _I let it happen… just like before… I let it happen._

"_I want it to stop,_" he murmured, his voice muffled by his father's shirt, unaware of what he was saying, as he began to ramble uncontrollably. "Patterns keep repeating, and I want it to stop. It doesn't matter where I am… LA… Quor'toth- either way its hell, and hell, it seems, loves me."

"What're you saying, Connor?" Angel's voice was earnest, though, Connor did not notice as he continued to speak his crazed thoughts as soon as they came to him.

"I want the pain to subside. I want to carve it out until I feel nothing… I want to forget. I-I want it to end… I want to fix whatever cosmic fuck up that allowed me to be born. I want to end me… I can't-"

But he didn't get to finish, as Angel gripped him roughly by the shoulders and held him an arms length apart- so that he could look him determinedly in his agonized icy blue eyes. "You are _not_ a cosmic fuck up," Said Angel with such a conviction, that Connor felt a sudden warmth in his heart- though, it was brief- he felt it.

When Connor did nothing but gaze at the vampire, stunned, Angel continued. "The pain _can _subside, son, I promise you it can, but you have to _talk to me_ about it- you have to let me help you or it won't. You have to quit sneaking out every time I leave you alone for five minutes, and worrying my unbeating heart into coming alive, only to have a heart attack. And more importantly- you cannot give up. I know what it's like to wish for it all to end, but it can't. You have to live. Do you remember what I told you?"

Connor appeared confused, furrowing his brow- his blue orbs never seeming more child-like then they did in that moment. Angel's grip slackened at seeing this. "I told you that if you die- then I do too. Vampires are very selfish creatures, Connor and, though, I have a soul, you'll find that when it comes to you, I am extremely selfish."

Connor was silent for a long time- the only sound being his occasional hiccup or sniffle before he finally said, "I won't die if you won't."

Angel sighed, crushing Connor to his chest in an anxious hug. "I'm not going anywhere, pal, so you better not either."

Nodding, Connor whispered, "I'll try," Pulling away from his father, he peered at him with doe eyes before he asked, "Can I go take a shower? I'm tired… I just wanna go to sleep soon," Though this was a lie. He didn't want to sleep. Avery might contact him while he slept. And he didn't know what he would do if that happened. Now- he just wanted to forget it all. He wanted it all to be erased. He wanted to be clean- though, he knew that he never was, and never would be.

"Sure," Angel said, as he helped Connor up, "I'll come check on you when you get out, alright?"

"Okay," Said Connor meekly, already on his way to the stairwell.

"And, Connor?"

Connor paused, mid-step, peering over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

The corners of Connor's mouth rose up slightly in the barest hint of a smile as he said, "I know you do, dad, and… I love you too," and then he asended the stairs, his heart still aching and heavy, but just the slightest bit lighter than it had been before.

* * *

**A/N: I might've moved this chapter a little too fast with the whole Connor/Avery thing, but this is how I see it happening in my head, so ima go with. And just to make things clear, Connor is not gay, or bi in this fic. Hence the reason why he's so scared of Avery. Well, that and I think anybody would be afraid if some person they didn't really know was putting the moves on them and they didn't want it. Also I hinted at some traumatizing event in his past. Should get to that soon. And I still don't know how many more chapters there will be, but ima guess around twenty or so…**


	18. His little Destroyer

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**A/N: You get a little bit of a look inside of Avery's mind here and what exactly he wants Connor for (besides the obvious). **

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Lilah sighed in frustration, arms crossed frigidly across her chest, as she spoke with a forced calm and rationalization. "For the last time, Mr. De'mara, Wolfram and Hart is willing to help you with whatever you need- regardless of the body count it takes to achieve that, but we cannot help you with the Connor situation. It _must _be his choice_._ Nothing can be forced with him."

Avery glared, his silver eyes darkening as a red ring appeared around the pupil. "I am aware of that, _Lilah,_ but I was hoping that the good lawyers at Wolfram and Hart could assist me on how to persuade him into willingly allowing me to do the things that I need into making him mine, and harnessing his power. That is what we all want, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Lilah soothed, not wanting to lose her most important client. "We all want the rising of hell for the next apocalypse, but you know as well as I do that he is the Destroyer, and like I said before; the Destroyer cannot forced to do anything- he can be tamed if he allows it, but never forced."

"You don't think I know that? I've looked through his most inner thoughts, and memories, and you don't think that I know that? I've seen every single thing that has ever happened to him in his seventeen years of existence and you treat me as if I am some common magician, instead of the most powerful warlock of this century," Said Avery, practically fuming at the ignorance he had to put up with.

Lilah's demeanor quickly changed as she switched to her 'keep the client happy' mode. "Oh, no. Of course not, Mr. De'mara. I would never imply such an untrue thing, and if I did, I do apologize deeply for it," Lilah said in her sickly sweet voice, fake smile plastered on her face, as she tried to patch up the damage she'd just unwittingly caused. "I can't help you make Connor do anything, though; I can help you dispel his resolve."

Avery raised an eyebrow at this. "Oh, really? How is that?"

"Well, there is this mythical herb that I think would work nicely."

"Hmm… Interesting. What does it do?"

Lilah smirked, her Cheshire grin firmly intact as she said, "In layman's terms; it gets you high."

Avery smiled as well, though, his was much more sinister, as he contemplated all the things that he would do to his little Destroyer.

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**A/N: Short, but I've started writing the next chapter already so it shouldn't be too long before it's posted. **

**Thanks so much for all the reviews I've received :} I love you guys! Last time I checked I had 61 reviews! I never thought I'd have that many for this or anything else, and all of them have been sweet and some even extremely helpful with my writing ^-^ **

***hugs* -Allie**


	19. Need to know

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**A/N: A whole lot of Spike/Connor interaction in this chapter. Well, in the whole chapter actually. **

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"Spike?" Connor asked, from his spot on the bed, his eyes glancing away from the TV screen and over to the peroxide blonde.

"Yeah, pup?"

"I'm never going to be left alone again, am I?" he asked with a sigh, switching his position to lie on his side as to see his babysitter better.

"'fraid not," Spike replied, finally prying his eyes away from the television to gaze at Connor with a mix of sympathy and, slight amusement.

"I figured as much considering the only time I'm left alone, is in the bathroom," Said Connor good naturedly. He wasn't really bothered by this fact. He wasn't sure he wanted to be left alone after what happened with Avery. If he wasn't alone, then, Avery couldn't get to him, at least… He hoped he couldn't.

"You know you're going to have to talk about what happened that night sooner or later, right?" Spike said, as if reading Connor's mind.

Connor sighed, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. "I guess," he murmured, staring at his hands, as he brought his arms to encircle around his legs.

Spike sat up straighter, his gaze concerned as he placed a caring hand on Connor's shoulder. "Angel smelled the alcohol on your breath, Connor. He also picked up the scent of a man-" Connor's body went rigid at this, as he peered over at Spike with a fearful glint in his eyes. "-he said that he didn't smell familiar, and that you wouldn't tell him anything after you got out of the shower. Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

"_I…_" Connor trailed off. He wanted to tell somebody- he didn't want to bear this cross anymore, but he had to. Holtz always told him that he was never to admit to any weakness. And, though, he knew that he had only taught him this to train him for his own personal vendetta, he also felt that on certain things, what he'd taught him was right. "I didn't meet anyone… He probably just smelled the vampire that I dusted," he lied, disappointed in the fact that he couldn't seem to tell the truth anymore, but not disappointed enough to actually be honest.

He wasn't the only one disappointed with him, it seemed. He could see that Spike was clearly frustrated with him, as he heard him take in a deep breath that he didn't need- oddly reminding him of Angel.

"Connor, I know you're lying. You're not very good at it, y'know. And besides… If you didn't meet anyone, what's this, then?" Spike asked, pushing Connor's long shaggy hair aside and gesturing towards his neck, where, a dark purple hued bruise had appeared in the form of a love bite.

Connor's eyes went wide, as he jerked away from Spike, pushing his hair back over the mark he'd fought hard to hide. "That's… That's nothing. I- It's nothing," Connor insisted frantically, scooting further away from the vampire, who now eyed him with pity.

"Did you really think you could hide something like this from me or your father? We're vampires, we're quite sensitive to things like this, y'know. Will tell me who gave it to you?" Asked Spike softly, as not to spook the volatile looking boy before him.

Connor shook his head vigorously, then hid his face behind his legs, trying to block out the moment. Nobody could know. Angel was already on his case about his lack of sleep- one night he even tried to make Connor take a sleeping aid, though, Connor refused. Sleep wasn't an option- telling someone what happened to him wasn't an option. Connor wasn't sure what options he had left, but he knew that whatever they were, they undoubtedly would do more harm than help.

Connor hugged himself tighter, as he felt Spike wrap one arm around him in a half hug, trying to offer Connor what little comfort he could.

"Connor," Spike sighed, gazing around the room as if the words he wanted to say were somehow written on the wall before him. "If your shagging someone that's fine, you're a teenage boy, it's to be expected, but there are certain things that I don't think that you know about sex that you sh-"

"I'm not _shagging _anyone," Said Connor- the word 'shagging' coming out as if it were a taboo word that he feared to speak aloud. "I-I might've seen someone the other night, but that doesn't mean that I did anything," Connor's voice was muffled, as he added meekly, "_I didn't do anything wrong,_" though, he said this, his heart did not believe it, as his mind was swarming with images that stung in his brain and refused to disappear.

"Hey," Spike muttered, lightly poking Connor in the ribs. "Hey, pup, look at me."

Connor didn't move for several minutes, and the only sound in the room was that of his labored breathing as he fought, once again, not to cry. When he felt he had his emotions under control he peeked his eyes over his knees almost shyly, and said softly, "I thought I told you not to poke me anymore."

If Spike's heart could have broken, he was sure it would have at the pitiful way that the lithe teenager peered up at him. Connor's pale eyes were seemingly a brighter shade of blue with emotion- his voice sounded so small to even Spike's sensitive ears, and he never looked more frail and child-like. "That you did," murmured Spike before he remembered the conversation that he needed to have with the boy he considered to be a part of his family.

"I know you've slept with at least one girl-" Connor hid his face again, wishing that his worst memories would quit coming back to haunt him. "-there are certain things I don't think you understand about sex, Connor. Things that you need to know," Spike waited to see if Connor had anything to say before he carried on with his lecture, feeling a lot older then he had in a long while. _God, I feel like my father… no, worse… I feel like the poof! _Spike thought idly, patting Connor sympathetically on the shoulder as he heard him sigh.

"For one; you need to use protection every time you have sex or, not only do you risk knocking some bird up, but of getting a disease as well."

Connor looked up at this, his face a picture of confusion, as he realized that maybe there was something he needed to know. "Is… Is that what a condom is for?…" he asked unsure, but knowing that he'd heard something similar to what Spike was saying on TV.

Spike smirked slightly at the question before he answered, "Yes, pup. That's what a condom is for," he watched as Connor nodded that he understood, and noticed the slight tint in his cheeks that wasn't there a moment ago. "It's alright that you didn't know. You weren't exactly raised around here, but this is something you need to learn now."

"Okay," Connor said, his curiosity, and thirst for this worlds knowledge overshadowing his previously distraught mood for the time being.

"You didn't use protection with that girl, did you?" Spike asked gently, sensing that the night Connor came home after his interaction with that random girl was a touchy subject.

"_No,_" Connor whispered, his demeanor that of a child afraid of a loved one's judgment.

"That's alright, you didn't know, but I think that we should take you to a doctor to make sure everything's okay."

Connor's head snapped up at that, wide-eyed as he said, "Not another hospital, Spike. You know how I hate those places."

"I know. I'm not very fond of them either, but you should be checked out. And god knows that if you do have something wrong with you the poof will have my arse in a sling," Spike said, only half kidding, as he tried to put the rigid teenager at ease.

"Why would he be mad at you? You didn't do anything."

"Exactly- I didn't do anything, and I should have been watching you that night, but I wasn't."

That struck a nerve with Connor. He didn't want Avery to get him, yes, but he hated to be talked about as if he were still a child. He'd lost his childhood long ago. "I'm not a kid, Spike," he stated irritably, his moods seeming to change without warning lately.

"I know that, for the most part, your not. But in other ways, yes, you are," Spike said gently, knowing that being called a child was one of the things that angered Connor the most.

A thought suddenly occurred to Connor as he asked, "Did my dad put you up to this?" his tone accusing.

"Uh… I'm not at liberty to discuss that," Spike said vaguely, looking down guiltily.

"He did, didn't he?" Connor accused, his gaze now penetrating as he looked upon Spike with hard eyes.

"Well, yes, but I wanted to help, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually agree with him on this one." Spike watched as Connor moved away from him, his body language screaming frustration, as he crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest, and let out an annoyed gust of air.

Minutes passed and all was quiet, as Spike decided to let Connor sift through his thoughts, before finally, Connor asked, "Why didn't he talk to me himself?" his voice was calmer now- his shoulders slightly more relaxed, though, his arms remained crossed.

Spike shrugged his shoulders before answering simply, "He thought you'd be more willing to talk to me."

"Oh," Connor muttered, knowing that it was true. He wanted to talk to Angel, but it was hard. He worried too much about what his father would think of him- worried too much about disappointing the only person who cared enough to bring him back up to the surface of that icy water.

"It's only because he cares about you that he asked me to," Spike said sensing the sudden change in Connor's mood. "You know that, right?"

Connor sighed, "Yeah, I know."

"There was one particular thing he thought you would feel extremely uncomfortable discussing with him," Spike murmured, tilting his head contemplatively.

"And what's that?" Connor asked carefully. He had a feeling that whatever this was, it was something he damn sure did _not_ want to speak about.

"_Well…_" Spike dragged out the word, as he brought his gaze up to look Connor in the eye. "He smelled a man on you, and what with the hicky, it seems to us that you have a thing for blokes," Spike said then hastily added, "Which is completely fine! I myself experimented in my younger days, no ones gonna judge you about it."

Connor's eyes were huge, as he opened and closed his mouth several times, before saying slowly, "I do _not_ like guys that way."

"You don't have to lie about-"

"I'm not lying!" Connor nearly screamed, jumping up from his spot on the bed.

Spike stood as well, gazing at Connor as if he were trying to read him, before his brows furrowed deeply, and a frown graced his features. "Well, then why did you let him give you a…" Spike trailed off, realization seeming to dawn on him.

Connor blinked, his heart beginning to beat faster- the noise increasingly loud in his ears, and for once he wished he was like his father and that he didn't need a pulse so that he could finally gain some peace.

"Did he touch you when you didn't want it, Connor?" Spike's words were controlled, and Connor could tell that he was holding back the rage that he felt towards the man who gave him that mark on his pale neck.

"N-no… Nothing happened," _Quit lying! _he told himself, though, he knew that he couldn't. Lying, he thought, was like some form of disease that he could no longer control.

"He did. I can see it by the look on your face," Spike was talking more to himself now, as Connor began to retreat into the corner, his body trembling as he started to feel sick from all the emotional trauma.

"Who did it?" Spike asked abruptly, startling Connor, and making him jump. Spike's demeanor softened at seeing this, as he calmed slightly, moving to stand next to the shuddering boy.

"I-I can't t-tell you," Connor stammered, tears streaming down his face, as he supported his weight on the wall beside him.

Spike didn't press any further, not wanting to add to Connor's obviously volatile state, as he whispered, "We have to tell Angel."

"NO!" Connor yelled, his heart actually hurting it beat so fast. "He c-can't know!"

"He has to, pup. He's your father he needs to know," Spike insisted, though, he felt awful about going against Connor's wishes, it had to be done.

"N-no! He'll be mad at me! He'll be ashamed of m-me!" Connor was becoming hysterical, and Spike dreaded how he'd be once he talked to Angel, knowing he'd be even more irrational.

"He loves you, puppy. He'll never be ashamed of you," Spike said, as he lifted up Connor's face to look him in the eye as he said this.

"No, he won't now! I'm too weak! I didn't do anything! It was just like before! I let it happen!" Connor's voice was cracking, his entire being shaking, the night's events, and his sleep deprivation crashing in on him hard.

Connor's words were not lost on Spike as he asked, "This happened before?" but Connor didn't answer, as his eyes began to droop, and he fell unconscious into Spike's arms.

**

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**A/N: Yet another cliff hanger… I am truly evil, aren't I? A little bit of awkward moments here :} then dramatic finish. I hope your thinking 'oh my goo what's gonna happen?' I couldn't tell you cuz I'm half asleep right now and starting the next chapter O.O **

**Love you all! -Allie**


	20. Make it go away

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**Warnings: Violence. Inappropriate touching of a child (molestation). And well, just sadness. The touching thing isn't vary graphic though, so no worries.**

* * *

"What do you mean someone touched him?" Angel whispered, hovering over Connor's bedside with a wet wash cloth, frequently dabbing it on the sweating teen's forehead.

"He didn't tell me that in so many words exactly, but the way he was acting… I've seen that look before, Angel. I know what it means, I've caused it before, and I know that you have too."

"_Oh, god…_" Angel gasped, his eyes pained, and glazed over with unshed tears. "That explains why he was as hysterical as he was the other night."

Spike looked sadly at the trembling form on the bed before he spoke, "Before he passed out he said something like 'it was just like before'."

Angel went rigid at that, his head snapping up and staring at Spike with a newfound rage, though, it was not towards him, "He said it happened before?"

Spike nodded grimly. "That's what he said. I'm not sure when he meant, though. He could mean here in LA, or for all we know something completely horrible could've happened to him in Quor'toth."

"How could he not tell me about this?" Angel muttered to himself, his guilt and, grief, now eating at him continuously.

Spike moved to stand beside Angel, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as he spoke, "I'm sure he was just afraid."

"I've told him that I can help him no matter what the problem is, Spike. I love him, I'm his father. I…" Angel trailed off, at a loss for words, as he stared helplessly at his trembling son.

"He knows, mate. He knows…"

* * *

"_I__don't wanna be here,_" Connor murmured distraughtly to himself, as he watched the exchange between the man he once viewed as his father, and his younger self. He took frantic steps backwards until he felt his back was met with the grimy cave wall. He couldn't remember again- he just couldn't. His heart ached profusely as it banged against his chest- that he began to think was too small, as it started to feel constricted once the words Daniel began to speak drifted over to his ears.

"I have to make you strong, Steven. You know this, don't you?" Daniel's voice was an eerie calm as he leered down at the ten year old boy before him.

Steven's voice was meek, as he replied with a simple, "Yes, Father."

"God wants it to be this way, you know this?"

Again he answered with merely, "Yes, Father," though now his eyes appeared terrified, and Connor knew what Steven was afraid of. He was terrified that he'd feel the harsh bite of Father's whip, but what he would get would be much, much worse than he had ever expected.

He watched with bated breath as Daniel advanced on the frail looking boy, who was only clothed with demon skin. He remembered this- he didn't want to, but he did. He gasped as he saw Daniel grab hold of Steven's shirt and lift it over his head roughly.

Steven cringed slightly, which earned him the back of Daniel's hand connecting with his tender cheek. He stilled then, and allowed Daniel to continue with whatever it was he were about to do. Steven watched as Daniel took off his own shirt, his eyes confused as he saw a look of determination in that of his Father's. "F-Father-"

"Take off your pants, Steven," Daniel said firmly, cutting Steven off.

Steven stood rigid, not understanding his Father's motives. "W-why, Father?" his young voice trembled as he asked this, as his stomach began to churn at his newfound uneasiness.

Daniel's lip curled distastefully as he spoke, "Because, _son-_" he said the word 'son' like it was acid on his tongue- "This is what god wants, and you trust in god, don't you, _son?_"

Steven's body began to shake as he worried his bottom lip. He was becoming very afraid of his Father, and he was unsure of what he was supposed to do. "_I… _Yes, Father. I do," he finally whispered, his eyes downcast as Daniel moved closer to him.

"That's good, Steven… that's good," Daniel murmured more to himself than to the frightened boy before him, as he began to inch down Steven's makeshift pants.

Steven shut his eyes tightly, as did Connor, the scene before him becoming too much to handle. He sunk down to the cave floor, his knees coming to his chest, as he brought his arms around to hug himself. He began to rock back and forth slightly as he heard what was happened next.

"_F-Fath-_" he heard Steven stop short as a gasp escaped past his lips. He knew what was happening, and he wanted desperately to stop it, but he was too terrified to do anything.

"Father, please don't, it hurts!" he heard Steven begin to beg, then heard the angry sound of flesh smacking across flesh, and, he recalled how Daniel had pulled his head up by his hair and hit him hard across the face before he dropped his head, and continued on with his new form of torture.

"No, no, no!" Connor sobbed loudly, matching that of his younger self, as he listened to all the horrific things that were happening- all the deafening cries of anguish he now remembered emitting. "Make it go away," he cried, his entire being trembling uncontrollably. "Please… God, somebody… just make it go away!"

_I can make it stop, Connor… _a familiar voice whispered in his mind. He recognized it instantly, though this time the voice was no longer disguised.

"No you c-can't," Connor whispered aloud, not believing what Avery said to him, knowing that he would lie- would do anything to get what he wanted. Just like Daniel.

_Oh, but I can, Connor. You just have to let me. I need you to let me into your very soul, your very being. Only then can I make it go away…_

"I don't believe you," Connor said meekly, his eyes stinging with tears as they built up underneath his still closed eyelids.

_I can make you forget. I can make you forget it all. It'll be like he never even touched you… _that, _I promise._

Connor sat there in the fetal position, violently shaking as he contemplated his options. He didn't want to be here- would rather die than relive what Daniel did to him, but worried about what Avery would do if he agreed. He was unsure, but decided that nothing could be worse than this. He took in a shuddering breath before he spoke, his voice shaky, "Okay… what do I have to do?"

He could practically feel Avery's dark smile, though he couldn't see him, and shuddered as he thought, _God help me… I've just made a deal with the devil…_ and went rigid as Avery spoke.

_God can't help you, Connor. You're all mine now, dear…_

**

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**A/N: I am so sorry it took so long for a chapter so short! A lot of shits been going on. For one my sister just got married! ^-^ and I just got back from that yesterday after being gone for two and a half days. And my laptop charger got like fried from where the power randomly went out, but it started working now (yay)! So I was finally able to finish the chapter. Don't hate me please! I tried!**


	21. Breathe

**A/N: IT'S A NEW CHAPTER! YAY! I'm so glad my laptop didn't fuck up when I spilled sprite on it, or you wouldn't be getting this chapter at all O.O though… the 'E' key sticks now… rather annoying. -.-**

**Warnings: Language.**

* * *

"Is he breathing?" Spike asked distraughtly as Connor suddenly stilled on the bed, his chest seeming as though it had ceased to rise and fall with each breath.

"He's breathing. It's shallow, but he is breathing," Angel answered, forehead creased with worry, and his own breathing heavy, though, it had been a long time since he actually needed it.

"Well, what the hell is wrong with him?" Spike asked aloud, not expecting an answer.

"I don't know, Spike! Nothing has happened to him physically, right?"

"Nothing to my knowledge, no. I don't understand how he could just faint out of nowhere. If this were because of something emotional you'd think that he'd have woken up by now."

"But he hasn't, Spike," Angel said, eyes never leaving the weak looking form of his son on the bed. "He's only gotten worse. I can't lose him again, William. I won't survive it."

"You won't have to, mate. I think this is something mystical… I'm not sure what exactly this is, but it seems familiar somehow. I'm gonna go see what I can find out," Spike stated, voice soft as he saw the pain that lurked within Angel's eyes, that only became more apparent when he slipped up and used Spike's former name.

"Are you going to be alright here?" asked Spike, concerned.

It took Angel a minute to register what Spike had said, but once he did he nodded, yes. His eyes still glued to his child, anxiously awaiting for the moment when he would finally awaken.

* * *

"Spike!" boomed Mikey the pub owner, huge grin on his face as his favorite customer walked through the door. "Shall I get you the usual?"

"I'm afraid I'm here on business, mate," Spike announced, as he took a seat on the barstool across from Mikey.

Mikey frowned at this, seeing the somber look on Spike's face. "Yeah? What's happened?"

"I need to know everything you know about mystical induced sleep," Spike said, tone all business.

"That it?" Mikey asked, seeing Spike's serious expression he could tell that it was. "Alright well, there are various kinds of mystic sleep. There's the Wiccan kind. The Faria demon kind. And then there's the kind caused by Dragon Magikk, or more commonly known as Warlock Magikk."

"What's the difference between each type of magic?" asked Spike, drumming his fingers anxiously atop the bar.

"Well, Wiccan sleep is usually caused by potions. Now I'm assuming that since you're suddenly so curious about this that someone you know has fallen victim to mystic sleep, am I correct?" Spike nodded. "Okay well, did they recently drink anything a purple/black color? Or maybe complained of drastic blurry vision?"

"No. No blurry vision and I doubt that he would drink anything that's an odd color."

"Hmm. Then there's the Faria demon, but you would know if it was that because he would have a blue rash broken out all across his skin."

"He doesn't," Spike said, brow furrowed as he realized what that meant.

"The only thing that's left is Dragon Magikk," Mikey said somberly. "The symptoms for that include; sleep deprivation in the beginning, easily startled, paranoia, frequent night terrors, and the person will often hear voices, normally that of the Dragon himself."

"What reason would a warlock have to cast a spell like this on a seventeen year old boy?" Spike whispered aloud.

"Wait. Are we talking about Connor?" Mikey suddenly asked, eyes a little big with the realization that they in fact, were. "He's been targeted by a warlock?"

"It seems that way, Mikey," Said Spike.

"Then I'm afraid you've got a problem then," Mikey said, eyes softening.

"What're you meaning?" Spike asked, earnestly.

"I've been hearing talk of a prophecy. Not just any prophecy, but one involving The Miracle Child."

"Why the fuck didn't you mention this to me sooner, Mike?" Asked Spike, harshly.

"I honestly didn't take it seriously. Heard it from a fucking Glorther demon. You know you can't even trust them to tell you the time correctly, damn things are so stupid."

"Well, that's all fine an' dandy, but what the hell is this prophecy?"

"From what I gather it says that for a Warlock, aka a Dragon to be restored to its former self, the Miracle Child must be sacrificed. But it can't be forced, it has to be the child's choice… it has to be Connor's choice," Mikey explained, a grim look on his face.

"What does that mean, exactly?" Spike demanded.

Mikey hesitated. "_Exactly_?"

Spike nodded.

"Well…"

* * *

"They want him for what?" Angel demanded, eyes flashing yellow as his control and, last bit of restraint began to ebb away.

Spike kept his voice calm as he explained exactly what he had learned after his visit at the pub. "Apparently there's a prophecy that states that in order for a warlock to return to its former self; a dragon, they have to _take _the Miracle Child, meaning Connor, but he has to be willing."

"What do you mean, _take?_" Angel asked anger evident in his voice.

Spike looked hesitant as he spoke. "Well, I mean the warlock would have to 'take' him. As in, how do I put this delicately, have sex with him," Spike said tentatively. The word 'sex' spoken in a hushed whisper.

"I will fucking turn to ash before I let that happen!" Angel spoke, his voice harsh like acid on his tongue.

Spike looked on with sympathetic eyes as he said, "I know, mate, but it hasn't happened yet. We still have time to prevent it."

Angel sighed, the noise sounding as though it came from deep within his very being. "I should have told him before."

"Told him what?"

"I knew that there was a rumor of a prophecy involving him. That's why I've been going out so much. It's why I've been pawning off all the cases on you," Angel stated as he sat down on the edge of the bed, head resting in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spike asked, voice revealing the hurt he felt at not being trusted.

"I didn't think you could keep it from Connor. I know how close you two are. I should've told you. God, I should've told him."

Spike sighed, and took a seat next to Angel on the bed. "S'all right. It'll all be okay. He'll wake up, Angel. I know he will, I can feel. It's not too late to save him."

"I hope you're right, Spike. I hope you're right."

* * *

"What do I do?" Connor asked, still leaning against the cave wall.

_All you have to do, my dear, is surrender._ Came Avery's voice in Connor's head. His voice like sugar and cyanide mixed in one.

"And how do I do that?"

_Just close your eyes, breathe in deep, let go and, give yourself to me._

Connor took in a shuddering breath, and did as he was told. And as he did, he felt a veil of dread drop over him, weighing on him heavily. And the dread only increased as he was brought to consciousness, awakening with a piercing scream.

**

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**A/N: I know what you're thinking. 'Cliffhanger? Wtf?' But yes. I am evil. Especially with making everyone wait so long for this chapter. I'm sorry :/ I've gotten caught up in writing my own stories. (which by the way are **_**way **_**more disturbed than my fanfics). O.O shocking, right? I hope everyone didn't give up on me D: I will continue on with this story, though my other works in progress I probably won't. **

**Much love.**

**-Allie**


	22. Deal with the devil

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**Warnings: Language, and self-harm.**

* * *

His scream died down, almost as soon as it had begun, and he sat up quickly, eyes wide and darting around the room frantically. He waited anxiously, expecting Avery to jump out of the shadows at any minute, but was taken aback when he felt strong, cold arms wrap around him in an embrace instead.

"_Connor,_" he heard Angel murmur into his hair. "You're awake."

"Well, of course he's awake, you ponce," Spike said good naturedly, as he took a seat beside Connor on the bed. "I told you he'd be fine. You should listen to me more."

Angel pulled back to look Connor over then, shot Spike a half-hearted glare after he did so. "How're you feeling?"

Connor swallowed, his throat now dry. "Fine," he muttered, hoping he could mask the uneasiness he felt.

"You're lying," Spike stated, with what sounding to be sadness lacing his words.

Angel merely watched quietly as Connor sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and began to gnaw at it persistently. "_I'm not,_" he finally whispered after several minutes of silence passed.

"You are," Angel said matching Connor's quiet tone, not wanting to frighten him, as he saw how on edge he truly was.

"Not," he murmured, his eyes downcast and, his lip drawn between his teeth yet again.

Spike sighed, and lifted up Connor's chin gently, forcing the nervous teenager to face him. "You can tell us anything, Connor. _Anything._ And we won't judge you, or be cross with you no matter what it is."

Connor felt a desperate need to finally let his secret be known, but found that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't force the words out. He couldn't speak of Avery, though; he wanted to, he just couldn't. And he knew that his silence had nothing to do with his fear, but it was something completely different. It was _magic. _He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. His stomach tingled and, ached with the feel of magic and his sensitivity to it, and he knew. He knew that while he slept, locked away within his worst memory, that Avery had done something to him. And even worse; he knew that he had let him.

"I-I know," he whispered meeting Spike's eyes before he glanced over to look at his still as a statue, father. He peered into his father's brown irises, and wondered briefly as a unreadable expression passed over Angel's face, if his father somehow knew what truly had happened to him, because if Connor were to judge by the look on his face he would have to say that he indeed, did.

"I'm not up for talking right now," he finally said, eyes cast down again. It wasn't a lie, he conceded. He really didn't. "I wanna take a shower," he stated, fidgeting with the blanket covering him. "Can I?"

"Yeah, of course you can," Angel said softly, standing so Connor could get up. Connor took a deep breath as he stood, ignoring the sudden dizziness he felt as he began to walk.

"You okay?" Spike asked, as he noticed Connor sway slightly as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just feel tired, I guess." another lie. How many was he up to now? He wasn't sure. "I think I'll feel better after I shower," he said, though he had a sense that he would never feel any better. He wouldn't be given the chance to.

"Do you need anything?" Angel asked, worried gaze on Connor's back as he stepped through the bathroom door, leaning on the doorframe as if he didn't then he would surely sag down to the floor.

"Um, if you could grab me some clothes, and leave them out here, that would be great," he said softly, already pushing himself off the doorframe and inching himself more into the room. The attention he was receiving from the two vampires making him feel self-conscious and, guilty for he knew, they knew, he kept lying.

"Okay," Angel said apprehensively, as Connor began to shut the door.

Connor sighed as he locked the door behind him. Leaning his head back against it, he let his eyes flutter closed for a moment before he turned the shower's faucet.

Ridding himself of his clothing, he stepped inside the tiled shower with a sigh. He felt filthy. And it was as if this feeling was permanent, and he could never be clean again. He'd made a deal with the devil, and there was no way that he could take it back. And what made all of this worse was the fact that if he had told someone what had happened to him before, then he probably wouldn't be faced with this heavy sense of foreboding, and the knowledge that Avery would be coming back for him.

He didn't know how much more of this feeling he could take, as he leaned against the tile wall, the scalding water beating down on him like rain. He was terrified, his body practically shaking, and he was ashamed. He knew what was going to happen once Avery got him, he could feel it in his bones. And he knew that he was going to willingly let it happen. To escape one nightmare he would allow another to be created.

He needed to feel better, he needed a release.

Eyes cast down; he noticed a disposable razor resting on the edge of the porcelain shelf. Picking it up, he stared at it as an internal struggle began to wage war. Should he? It would bring him relief, yes. But he had promised both his father, and Spike that he wouldn't anymore. Biting his lip for what felt like the hundredth time that night, tears began to stream down his face, his eyes holding every single one of his conflicting emotions within their icy pools of blue.

_Fuck it… _he thought, as he finally came to a decision. Clutching the razor tighter within his hand he crushed the plastic, and freed the four little blades from their confinement.

Collecting one, he brought it to his wrist, slicing the blade clean across his flesh. Sighing in contentment he did it again, only this time deeper. These wouldn't go as deep as he was used to, but they were all he had, so he would have to make do. He repeated the action again and, again, until his nerves were completely calm, and his once harsh breathing was finally even.

He sank to the shower's floor, watching with hazy eyes as his blood slithered down the drain. It didn't matter what he did anymore, Connor conceded, his gaze never leaving the drain. He didn't have much more time left on this earth, and so while he was here, he would do whatever it took to make his time more bearable, despite what his family- because, yes they were his family, felt.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know. This update took forever. I wasn't lying when I said that my updates were gonna come slower then they used to. I hope everyone likes it. I was half asleep when writing this, so I'm not too sure… **

**So, I recently read this Connor story called Manchild by Rina76, and, Oh. My. God. It was amazing! I think that there needs to be more Connor slash stories. Either crossovers, Connor/Spike maybe, or like in Manchild, an OC. I'll probably write some one shots with Connor while I'm writing this. I'll probably change my name back to Slaughter Daughter, or something different, though. Because I really don't need people I know to be like OMIGOD! ALLIE WROTE A PORN! -dies-**

**People I know are annoying like that. Sorry for the long author notes -.- I'm done now.**


	23. Feel like a monster

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**Warnings: Language, I believe is the worst thing in this chapter. **

* * *

Connor sat rigidly at the kitchen table, glaring at the turkey sandwich before him with disdain shining clear in his eyes. Three days. That's how long it had been since he awoke from his worst nightmare, and that's how long he'd been waiting for his new one to start. He had yet to have any peace since that night, Angel and Spike watching him like a hawk, acting as if they didn't then he would disappear; which he probably would.

He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He was constantly going over different scenarios in his head of how Avery would come and get him, and he was stressed beyond his limit with no way of release because his babysitters were always near him. He hid the blades from the disposable razor beneath his father's bed in a hurry, afraid that Spike would see them if he didn't. He hadn't had the chance to go back for them yet. The only time he had alone was when he showered or went to the bathroom. He sometimes lied just to go in there so he could hide, and have a few minutes to pull himself together.

But it wasn't enough time, and he was unraveling, and he knew it.

"Connor, you have to eat something," Angel said sitting next to his son with a worried expression on his face.

"I'm not hungry," Connor murmured pushing the plate away. "I ate earlier."

"That's a lie." Connor heard the British voice say from the doorway. He sighed, realizing that he would probably have to eat whether he wanted to or not.

"No, it's not," he said, though he knew it wasn't really worth it to argue.

"Yes, it is. I tried to get you to eat breakfast this morning, and you pulled the same shit on me," Spike said, taking the seat on the other side of Connor. "And if you don't eat I'm fairly certain that captain forehead might stalk you even more."

Connor scoffed, "You stalk me too, you know."

"I do no such thing," Spike said, and Connor could tell that even Spike knew what he said was a lie.

"Whatever," he said, before taking a bite out of the sandwich that he loathed so.

"We just want you to be healthy, son," Angel said, as he wrapped his arm around the irritated teenager.

"Yeah," Connor muttered, as he took another bite, and pretended that the touch of another person didn't bother him. But Angel seemed to take notice regardless, and dropped his arm back down onto the table.

He couldn't help the feelings he got since his memories fully returned to him. He knew that neither Spike, nor his father would ever hurt him, but still it felt like acid every time he came in physical contact with someone else. He even felt that way when Fred would hug him, and god only knew that Fred wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone him. Well, aside from that one night with the taser, but he had deserved that, he knew.

He felt like he couldn't breathe anymore, and he needed to breathe, damn it. He wanted to burn into nonexistence, and every bite of food he took kept him from disappearing. Did he want to breathe? He needed to for his family, but it just kept getting harder and, harder to keep going. Maybe he wouldn't have to wait much longer before Avery took what he wanted from him then killed him. Maybe everything would be okay as long as after he went through all the nightmares and, horrors, he could finally get peace, finally get to sleep with no fear of dreams.

* * *

Was it odd to think of a bathroom as his sanctuary? Connor figured it was, but couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't care that his stomach was aching, stretching itself out to accommodate the food he'd eaten earlier. He didn't care that he was laying on the bathroom floor that hadn't been cleaned in he didn't know how long, and he didn't care that he'd been in this room for over an hour now.

He just didn't care, and it was beginning to scare him.

He should care that he was going to be… he couldn't even bring himself to _think _the word, he knew he could never _say _it. He was scared, but he figured he'd gone through it before, maybe now he could be detached from it. He could just pretend like it wasn't happening because the person would be different this time. This time it wouldn't be the person claiming to be his father, but just some skeevy man who would kill him after so he wouldn't have to suffer like he did before.

"_It can be different, Connor."_

Connor's eyes widened impossibly so, as he stared at the ceiling as if expecting to see Avery's face appear there at any given moment. Was he awake? He thought he was, but maybe he'd fallen asleep and hadn't realized it.

"_You're awake, my destroyer." _Came Avery's sickly sweet voice, his tone attempting to be soothing, which only made Connor feel more on edge.

"How?" Connor asked, as he quickly sat up, eyes frantically searching the room for any threat.

"_Shh… Don't speak out loud, lest the vampires hear you. I can read your thoughts, my little demon."_

_I'm not a demon! _Connor angrily thought, scowl gracing his features.

"_No, no, of course you aren't." _what was meant to be placating, only sounded mocking within Connor's head, and he really couldn't wait to get all of this shit over with.

"_Now that's not a good train of thought. Wanting to die? Tsk, tsk," _Avery chastised, which only fueled Connor's anger even more.

_So, what if I do? Why is that any of your fucking business? You'll get what you want before I die._

"_Well, aren't we in a bad mood today. I expected as much, though. I just knew you'd be feisty."_

_Feisty?… You know what, forget that. How are you even communicating with me right now if I'm not asleep? _Connor asked with his thoughts, deciding that maybe things would be better for him in the long run if he didn't piss someone as powerful as Avery, off.

"_Because, you promised yourself to me, you surrendered, and now it's nearly time for you to do the same physically."_

Connor swallowed, fear, despite his best efforts to suppress it, ebbing its way into his entire being. _Oh… _was all he could think.

"_Aww, how sweet. Is my destroyer nervous?"_

_No._

"_You're lying, but that's okay, I like it when my boy is bad."_

Chills ran down Connor's spine at those words, as different terrifying scenes flashed in his mind before he could stop them.

"_Such a dirty boy, my destroyer is… You'll have to wait, though. Nothing can happen until you get away from the leeches."_

_They're not leeches, _Connor halfheartedly defended, submissiveness dripping into his brain making everything else melt as if it'd been burned by acid.

"_Of course not," _Avery drawled. _"Now, I'm going to tell you what you're going to do, and you're going to do it, okay?"_

Connor hesitated, wondering briefly if he could take it all back.

"_You can't take back what's already been vowed, sweetling."_

Connor brought his knees up to his chest, and encircled his arms around them, before he took in a shaky breath, and thought, _What do I have to do?_

* * *

"Connor, you're finally out," Angel said from where he was sitting on Connor's bed.

Connor stayed silent, though, his blue eyes staring intently at the floor, his jaw tensed.

"What's wrong?" Angel asked as he stood up, his brow furrowed as he looked the teenager over. His head was down, his whole body seemed rigid, and he wouldn't look at Angel. "What's wrong?" Angel repeated, moving towards his son.

"Stop," Connor whispered, standing completely still. He didn't want to hurt his father, but if Angel didn't let him go then Avery would make him.

"Why?" Asked Angel gently, trying not to scare the clearly unnerved boy.

"Because, if you don't then he'll make me hurt you," Connor said his tone sounding so empty and, broken. "Please stop. I don't want to hurt you, dad."

Angel stilled, his eyes narrowing as he held his hands up to show that he posed no threat. "Who would make you hurt me, Connor?"

"_Don't tell him." _Avery said, his voice holding a domineering edge.

"I can't tell you," Connor whispered, "You have to let me leave, though."

"Son, I lost you once already, you know I can't let that happen again."

"It doesn't matter now. He won't let you keep me." Connor said, tears beginning to sting his eyes. He didn't want to hurt his dad, he didn't want to abandon him.

"_He'll be better off without you, though."_

_I know… _

"I have to go now, dad," he said with finality.

"You can't! I won't lose you again!" Angel stepped forward, but then stopped as Connor took frantic steps back. In a desperate attempt to make his son stay he said, "We know what happened to you before."

Connor's breath hitched at those words. "What do you mean you know? What do you know?"

Taking a deep breath, Angel said, "We know that… that someone hurt you before, and we know that whoever this person is that want's you to leave, will hurt you the same way."

"You don't understand," Connor whispered, his tears falling freely with no intention of stopping. "You don't know what it was like, and you don't understand that I have no way out of this; just like before."

"I'll help you get out of whatever this is, you just have to stay with me, okay?"

"_He can't help you, and you can't stay, my monster."_

"I can't, dad. I'm so sorry," Said Connor, whatever small amount of fight he had before, now gone.

"No, I won't lose you, Connor!" Angel yelled, as he lunged forward in an attempt to grab his son, only to be struck by electrical currents when his skin came in contact with Connor's.

Angel gasped, his eyes widening as he fell to the floor.

Connor sobbed as he watched his father fall. He never wanted this to happen, but Avery would hurt Angel even more if he didn't do what he told him to. "_Dad,_" Connor whispered, kneeling next to the semi-conscious vampire on the floor. "I'm sorry, and… I love you," he said before getting up, and jumping out of the window.

As he landed on the ground he only hoped that wherever he went after he died, that he would see Angel there someday.

* * *

Connor ran, letting the pull Avery had over him guide him to wherever he needed to go. He felt helpless, as his footsteps pounded against the concrete sidewalk. He couldn't do anything to stop what was about to happen just like couldn't stop it when Holtz would do it. And what was worse was the fact that unlike with Holtz, he knew that something terrible, and possibly apocalypse worthy would come from this.

Avery was right; he was a monster. He was a monster and, he was a demon, and he was worse than all the others because unlike other demons, he had a soul, and even with it he managed to ruin everything.

He couldn't stop crying, the tears stinging his eyes, and falling down his face in a constant stream. As his guilt began to grow so, did his dread as he sensed that he was close to his destination. Even the promise of death after all this was over didn't seem like enough anymore, but still he ran. He ran because he knew that if he didn't then those he loved would die. Avery would make sure of that, Connor knew. Connor knew a lot more than anyone ever gave him credit for. He knew that Avery was just as heartless, and evil as every other creature he had ever come in contact with in Quor'toth, and even though he wasn't there anymore in many ways this world was just as bad.

Suddenly Connor stopped, a sudden chill running down his spine, as he found himself in front of a warehouse, though it was a different one then Avery was holed up in last time, Connor knew this was where he was. He could feel it, the aching in his gut made sure of that.

Slowly walking up to the door, he closed his eyes, and pushed it open, bracing himself for what lay ahead.

* * *

**A/N: Oh my jesus! I've been writing this for hours trying to finish it -.- I decided to rewrite this chapter because how I started it out the first time just really sucked. So, this story is going to end soon *tear* I'm not sure how many chapters there will be after this one because honestly, I'm not %100 sure of how I'm going to end it. I have a general idea, but I just write it until it feels finished. So, there could be two more chapters after this, four, five… I don't know.**

**Either way I have a idea for a slash fic that I'll be writing soon, so be on the look out for that :)**


	24. Can't take it back

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**Warnings: Sexual abuse, but nothing horribly graphic.**

* * *

Connor opened his eyes as he stepped through the door, the smell of incense barraging his senses. The room was dark with hundreds of candles lit, some forming small circles. And in the center of the room was a king sized bed covered in dark grey sheets.

"Connor, you made it." He heard Avery whisper. Quickly turning around, he backed away, Avery merely inches from him. "I've waited so long to see you again."

Continuing to retreat, Connor stayed silent, his eyes wide and tearful as the reality of what was about to happen fully set in. He didn't want this; he just wanted everything to end. He promised Angel that he wouldn't attempt to take his own life again, though, and this seemed to be his only other option.

Avery smirked, his silver eyes sparkling as Connor unknowingly walked himself backwards, closer to the bed. "Such a strong desire you have to die," Avery said softly, following Connor until the back of the shaking teenager's legs came in contact with the edge of the bed, making him tumble onto it. "Is it because of what the man you called your _father _did to you, I wonder…" he mused, crawling onto the mattress as Connor tried to scoot away, only succeeding in backing himself against the bedpost. "Or is it because you're afraid of unleashing this power, and what someone like me will do with it?"

"_I don't have any power…_" Connor whimpered, his hands grasping the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Avery smiled, as he crawled on top of the trembling boy, pinning Connor's arms above his head as he did so. "Oh, but you do, my little monster," Avery said, one hand moving down to the fly on Connor's jeans, while the other stayed and held, firmly, but not painfully onto Connor's wrists. "You just don't know how to use it."

Connor closed his eyes, as the tears kept leaking out, and in a raspy voice said, "I don't want to know how to use it… I want it gone."

That same smile remained on Avery's lips, as he pulled down Connor's jeans, eliciting a scared gasp to leave the boy's mouth. Beginning to undo his own fly, Avery leaned down close to Connor's face, and whispered, "After this, you won't want it gone, and I promise I'll show you how to use it."

Connor shook his head, fear coursing its way through out his body, and practically paralyzing him as his heart beat furiously within his chest. _No, no, no, no, no… _he thought frantically, his breath leaving him in harsh gasps. He didn't want this. He wanted to feel nothing; he wanted to die.

"I can give you everything, my dear destroyer," Avery murmured, as he removed Connor's underwear, Avery's own clothing already gone. Connor merely sobbed, as he attempted to jerk away, finding his efforts futile as Avery had cast magical binds on him; holding him in place. "I _will _give you everything just as soon as you give me what I want, and we become one."

Turning his head away, Connor bit his lip as he braced himself for the inevitable, his small frame trembling violently.

"_I don't want this,_" he whispered, as Avery's hands spread his pale thighs apart, his hands gripping the wrought iron bedpost until the iron nearly bent under the pressure. "Please don't…"

Avery sighed, the sound patronizing as if Connor was a small child grating on his nerves. "I must, my monster. I need to be whole again, and with you I can be," brushing his lips across Connor's in a surprisingly chaste kiss, Avery pulled away and continued, "Besides, sweetling, you already gave yourself to me. You can't take it back."

It was true, he realized. He could never take anything back. He couldn't take back promising himself to Avery, he couldn't take back what he did to Angel, he couldn't take back all the lies he had told, he couldn't take back the hurt he had caused, and he couldn't take back loving Holtz despite what the man had done to him. He was stuck with all the guilt, with all the pain and, all of the scars; emotional and external. He was worthless. Merely a vessel for others to use for their own purposes, and after this, he knew that he would be all used up.

"You're mine," Avery growled, as Connor felt him push in, and claim what was now his. The room soon filled with Connor's helpless cries, as Avery continued his unwanted assault on his body, the pain becoming unbearable, and even worse than Connor remembered.

_Not his… _Connor told himself, his mind frantic and hyperactive. _Don't want this. Want my daddy… but he can't save me, he never could save me. I just let it happen- I'm letting this happen._

"No!" Connor suddenly screamed, his eyes snapping open as his tears finally ceased, something breaking inside of him.

_Not his._

_Not his._

_Not his._

_Not his._

_Not his._

_Not his._

_NOT. HIS!_

He chanted in his mind, his eyes flashing bright yellow as he squirmed and bucked beneath Avery until his hands were broken from their invisible binds, and he was able to throw the warlock off of him.

Anger flooding his veins like poison, Connor swiftly rolled off the bed and onto his feet. He couldn't take it anymore. He was worthless and, he was nothing, but he would not be owned. He didn't belong to anyone anymore; not even himself.

"_I,_" he hissed, yellow eyes bearing a glare so vicious it could kill, "Am not _yours,_" he finished, moving closer to the shocked man before him, who merely stared up at him with a look of surprise and fascination. Picking Avery up by the throat, he slung him across the room, and into a concrete wall, before he ran with vampire speed after him as the warlock crashed, leaving a hole in the concrete from the impact.

Appearing next to the still stunned warlock, Connor lifted Avery up again, and threw him to the floor, more power than he'd ever felt filling his body. Straddling Avery, he slammed his fist into Avery's face repeatedly as he began to speak.

"Not yours!" he screamed as he punched Avery over and, over again with all the strength that he possessed.

"Never yours!" _Punch. _

"You're just like him!" _Punch. _

"I'm not his!" _Punch._

"I was never his!" he sobbed, his onslaught of hits finally coming to a stop after what felt like hours; his anger replaced with sadness. Letting the tears fall freely, he peered down at the limp and unmoving body beneath him; Avery's face not even recognizable after all the damage he had done.

Shaking, Connor slowly crawled away from the corpse, his mind in a state of shock as he backed himself against the wall, his body aching and, sore from where Avery had roughly taken him. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he encircled them with his arms, as he rocked himself back and forth like a child, his cries increasing as the realization of what he'd done set in.

He'd killed Avery; a warlock, but that didn't matter. Warlocks weren't human, he knew that. He'd killed a few in Quor'toth, though none as strong as Avery. What scared him was that, not only did he kill Avery, but in his mind he was killing Holtz too- he was killing the man he used to call Father.

But Holtz wasn't his father. Fathers don't beat their sons because they're different, because they have powers and strengths that they can't help having. Fathers don't claim to love their sons only to rape them, and say that it was to help make them stronger.

Because that's what Holtz did, Connor finally realized. He raped him, and he left him a scarred, wounded little child for life. And Connor couldn't take much more of dealing with this pain; with this burden, and this feeling that he was worthless- that he was filthy. He didn't want to deal with this alone anymore; he didn't want to deal with it at all.

He wanted to disappear. And so, as he sat on the cold floor, partially naked, shuddering, and crying and, longing to forget; he waited in intense agony for death to consume him, hoping for it to end his life for he didn't have the strength to end it for himself.

And as he cried there, exhaustion beginning to overtake him, the only thing he could think was, _I want my daddy… he knows how to make it better. _

_Daddy, please make it better… _

And then everything faded to black as he couldn't fight sleep's pull any longer.

* * *

**A/N: Hmm… not my best chapter, but I'm extremely tired, and really want to get this posted. And just to clear some things up (because I'm not sure if they'll be mentioned in the next chapter) If you're wondering how Connor electrocuted Angel, he did it through Avery. Connor doesn't have freaky warlock powers. Avery was just able to use Connor.**

**And I tried to show that, to an extent, Avery actually liked Connor, and wanted to keep him after he'd returned to his normal form as a dragon. Because in this fic I was going to have it where Avery could transform into a warlock/dragon whenever he wanted after the whole thing with Connor. But… yes, Avery is dead. Anyone else glad for that?**

**Also… My Connor/Spike slash fic is up! It's titled "Wrong" **

**Go read it please? Be forewarned, though; it is graphic.**

**Anyway, hope you all like the new chapter ;) **


	25. Alone

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**Warnings: Self-harm.**

**A/N: It has been months since I've last updated, and for that I am very sorry. But the story will be finished. So no worries. I've been reading over this story before I started on this chapter and I realized a few things;**

**1. I don't know what was up with my little whorish winky smiley faces.**

**2. I obviously didn't know the difference between "Your" and "You're"**

**3. I didn't proof read enough.**

**4. My grammar was just all around awful. (more so than it is now)**

**And 5. How the hell does this have so many reviews? :o**

**I love every single one of you guys for all the wonderful reviews you've given this story! I've never gotten so many before, and it really means a lot to me. Especially the ones that actually critiqued my writing. I feel like I've improved since I first started on this story, and I'm so glad that you guys stuck with it and still like it.**

**Anyway, enough of my rambling. Enjoy the long overdue chapter.**

* * *

_Hopeless… You're a hopeless child, Steven._

_You're my little monster, Connor._

_You're broken, Connor._

Those were the voices that blared within Connor's mind as he began to awaken. Groaning, Connor opened his eyes, his vision coming into focus. He was in his father's room. But how did he get there? He had passed out at the warehouse.

"_D-Dad?_" He whispered as he sat up, his head aching as he looked around the room, finding it empty. Where was everyone? Where was Spike? Where was his father? Surely they wouldn't leave him alone after all that had happened to him.

He rolled off the bed, pulling the duvet with him as he went; his body shivering from cold as much as it was from emotional trauma. His shoulders shook as he began to cry, his eyes stinging with tears as the extent of what happened caught up with him.

Nobody cared. He thought that they did, but then, why wasn't there anyone around to comfort him? He was alone. He was always alone. He could be surrounded by hundreds of people with a blade against his throat and no one would even notice him, no one would even care. He was pathetic, he was weak, he was an abomination, he was a waste of breath. _He was a monster. _

Weak little monster with the desolate mind and the shattered soul. He was worthless. Utterly and completely worthless.

"…_Why?_" He whimpered, his voice broken and barely even there. Why did all of this happen to him? What had he done to deserve all of this pain? What horrible thing had he done to be punished this way? And that's all he ever got; punishment.

He was punished by Holtz, he was punished by Avery, he was punished by his family that forced him to live. And most of all, he punished himself. He punished himself with every guilty thought he had, with every tear he shed and, with every drop of blood that was spilt as he sliced up his own flesh.

And oh, how he missed that. He missed the sting, the pain as the blade would tear apart his skin. The warmth of the blood as it would trickle out. But was it punishment, or reward? He wasn't sure anymore.

Reaching underneath Angel's bed he felt around for the razorblades he had left there before. Retrieving them, he stared at them intently.

Should he? He knew he shouldn't, but he wanted to so very badly. No, he _needed _to. The little monster, the little demon needed to feel the satisfying pain. Needed to see the blood, and the scars that the blade would leave behind in its wake.

Hands shaking, he brought the blade down onto the skin of his upper arm, digging it in deep. He gasped at the feeling, slight relief making its way into his mind as he made more cuts.

He did it again and, again. Covering not only his arms with wounds, but his torso as well. Finally dropping the spent blade to the floor, he watched as the crimson slithered out and dripped onto the white duvet. There was no way for him to hide this, and he found that he didn't really care.

His head hurt, his back ached and, his lower body was sore from what Avery had done to him.

His wounds stung beautifully, though. And for that distraction he was grateful. The destroyer quieted down as Connor bled freely, his breathing evened out as his frantic mind calmed.

Why was this the only thing that made him feel better? He truly was a monster, for only monsters craved blood. Like father, like son, he supposed.

Letting his eyes flutter shut, he leant his head against the bed and tried to completely relax.

_Relax… _

He could do that now, he realized. Avery was dead. He was gone and he was never coming back. He'd never trespass in Connor's dreams again. And he'd never, ever hurt him or his family.

"Relax," Connor breathed to himself. "_Relax…_"

And that's exactly what he did, as he drifted off into the most peaceful slumber he'd had in a long time.

* * *

_Red,_ Connor decided, was his favorite color. There was so much of it flowing within his veins, almost as if he had an endless supply. Though, he knew that eventually his blood would run out.

But unfortunately, today was not that day.

"Do your wounds feel any better?" Spike asked him from his spot on the floor as he absentmindedly flipped through one of Fred's magazines.

"They feel perfect," Connor said meekly, closing his eyes as the hot bathwater stung his newest lacerations.

One week. Seven hellish days.

That was how long it had been since Avery died. That was how long it had been since Connor awoke alone, with no one but his razorblade.

Spike and Angel had eventually found him, asleep and bleeding freely onto the duvet. And of course, they panicked.

Angel was at his side in less than a second. Shaking him awake and pressing the ruined blanket to his wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"_Connor! Are you okay?" Angel had asked him, fear and worry evident in his eyes._

_Staring blearily up at his father Connor answered honestly. "No, I'm not… You woke me up." _

Angel hadn't looked at him the same since that day. But maybe it was for the best, Connor thought. Bringing his knees up to his chest and laying his head on them, facing the tiled wall. Maybe it was better to know now that his father didn't care for him.

"Are they burning?" Spike asked, startling Connor from his reverie.

"No," He lied, hoping Spike would let it go.

Of course, though, Connor was never so lucky.

"All right," the vampire sighed, standing up and grabbing a towel. "Time to get out."

"_But I don't want to,_" Connor whined, closing his eyes and trying to pretend that the blonde wasn't there.

"Pup, I've been very understanding of your pension for sharp things, but I'm not gonna just stand here and let you hurt yourself even more."

Sighing in defeat, Connor stood up in the tub and quickly took the towel that Spike offered him. Wrapping it around his waist, he stepped out of the bath and sat down on the closed toilet seat, and waited. This had all become routine, really.

And just as expected, Spike kneeled down in front of him, alcohol and cotton ball held in each hand.

Connor hissed as the alcohol seeped into his wounds, burning even more than the hot water had.

Yes, this was all very routine.

Connor would wake up, alone with flashbacks of his past plaguing his mind. He would cry for hours before he would finally go and find something sharp enough to get the job done. He would cut and, cut and, cut, until he couldn't feel anything but the physical pain. Until he felt the calm, the emptiness spread through out him, letting him forget.

And it was then that he could sleep peacefully. He slept with absolutely no dreams, nor any nightmares. But of course, he was always eventually found. And he always awoke to a saddened and disapproving look from his father. This in turn, made him feel even worse.

But Connor didn't want to feel worse. He wanted to feel better- he wanted to feel nothing.

"Are you nervous?" Spike asked, pouring more alcohol onto a new cotton ball before returning to the task at hand.

"About what?" Connor questioned, head tilting slightly to the side as he examined the look in Spike's eyes- he found them sad, much like his own.

"About going to your first therapy session tomorrow."

Oh, Connor thought. _That. _

Looking down at the floor, Connor bit his lip before he tentatively answered Spike's previous question. "Not really… I don't plan on talking much, to be honest."

Spike halted his ministrations, dropping the now bloody cotton ball to floor before he gently lifted Connor's chin, forcing eye contact. "I think you should, though."

"…Why?" Connor asked quietly, picking at the soft cotton of his towel. "What could talking about it possibly solve?"

"It could help you deal with it," Spike said softly.

Connor furrowed his brow, eyes downcast to stare at the marks on his arm. "I don't want to deal with it. I just want to forget that anything ever happened."

"I know you do, but that's not how life works," Spike told him, grasping his arm and gingerly running his fingertips across the scars. "That's not how the heart, or the mind, works."

_Silence. _That's what met Connor as he thought about what Spike said. Spike was right, he knew. But Connor was scared. If he talked about it, then it would make it real. He didn't want it to be real. He didn't want to relive all the heartache he had felt. He needed to forget. But in order to forget, he realized, he needed to move on. And the only way he could really ever move on, was to… deal with it.

"Please, Connor," Spike said, breaking the silence. "Please, just talk to the therapist. Not for me, and not for your father… Talk to him for _you._"

This got Connor's attention as he looked into Spike's pleading eyes and thought, _For me?… _

He'd never really done anything to help himself before. It was always for someone else. He lived for other people, and he fought for other people. But maybe it was time that he started to live for himself. Maybe it was time he actually fought for himself, for what _he_ wanted.

"Okay," Connor said with finality. "I'll try."

And he found that this time he truly meant it.

* * *

**A/N: This feels kind of repetitive, but I don't know… I hope you all liked it regardless. I was very determined to get this posted tonight because of the whole "the government might censor the internet" bill. I will be very pissed if this happens, not to mention incredibly sad. And, no this isn't the last chapter. I'm not sure if they'll be one or two more. But the next one should have Angel/Connor time, not to mention Connor's trip to the therapist. And I should also explain why Angel and Spike weren't there when Connor first woke up after the whole Avery ordeal.**

**Thanks so much for reading :3**


	26. Hopeless

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**Warnings: Language.**

**A/N: Faster update? Hellz yeah :) First off, I have never been to a therapist so I'm just guessing on what it would be like. So bear with me if I'm completely wrong. This is not the last chapter. I think I'll make the next one the epilogue. Even though I'll be quite sad to end this story. Anyway, read on! **

* * *

"So, Connor," Dr. Jasik began. "How are you feeling today?"

He said that they would start out with simple questions, but to Connor this wasn't simple at all. He didn't know how he felt anymore, let alone how to _talk _about how he felt.

"I feel all right," Connor said meekly, eyes staring down at the untied laces of his left shoe.

"You say that, but I don't think you really mean it."

Connor shrugged his shoulders, glancing back up at the green demon. He was an empath demon like Lorne. So of course he could tell that Connor was lying. "I dunno…" Connor murmured, unsure of what he should say.

Dr. Jasik smiled reassuringly, before he scribbled down some notes on his clipboard.

What could he possibly be writing about? Connor wondered. They'd only started the session a few minutes ago.

Connor sighed. "I…"

Dr. Jasik looked up, giving the anxious boy his full attention. Connor didn't like this. It made him nervous, it made him insecure.

Grabbing the decorative pillow beside him, he hugged it to his chest as he tried to calm his nerves.

"It's okay, Connor," The doctor told him. "Just take your time."

Nodding, Connor gripped the pillow a little tighter as he tried to decipher how it was he truly felt.

Minutes passed by, the silence weighing heavily in the air. The only sound coming from the clock as it ticked from its place upon the wall.

"Hopeless," Connor suddenly said, startling the doctor a bit.

"I'm sorry?" Asked Dr. Jasik.

Connor closed his eyes. "I feel hopeless."

And he did, he realized. He felt like a hopeless child. Weak and despairing. Unable to do anything to protect himself. But he had to try. He _had to. _Because if he didn't at least try to move past all of this, then he truly would be worthless. He truly would be nothing.

And as he explained to the doctor why it was he felt the way that he did, he realized that even though his voice shook and his body trembled, he _was _trying and he _was _making an effort. And even if he never got any better and his wounds never healed, he'd be able to live with the knowledge that he tried.

He tried to fix himself.

* * *

"Do you ever wonder," Connor murmured, gaze locked on the pavement below. "What would happen if I were to jump off of here?"

"No," Spike said, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Why do you ask?"

Glancing over at the blonde, Connor sighed, hating the paranoid look he received. "Because I do… I think about it a lot, actually."

His therapist told him that he should be more open. That if something was bothering him, he should tell his family. He told Connor that he should be honest. But judging by the way Spike stared at him, so suspiciously, honesty maybe wasn't the best policy.

"How do you think about it, exactly?"

Connor blinked at the question, not expecting it. "I… I think about if it would kill me. If it would really hurt. And then, I think about what actually _could_ kill me… And I wonder if anything can."

Spike nodded, silent as he took another drag from his cigarette, his face contemplative.

"What do you suppose would kill me?" Connor suddenly asked, his doe eyes gazing at Spike with an almost child-like curiosity.

Spike sighed, draping his arm over the small teen's shoulders. "I don't know, pup. I don't really like to think about you dying."

"…Why?"

Spike frowned, perturbed by the boy's inquiry. "Because I care about you. Because you're the little brother I never had. You're family- you're blood. Because you're important, Connor."

Connor lowered his eyes, suddenly feeling ashamed for asking his best friend such a question. Because yes, Spike was his friend. He was probably the only friend Connor had ever had. The other's only cared about him because of Angel, but not Spike. Spike cared about Connor as a person, as _Connor._ Not just as Angel's son.

"I'm sorry," Connor whispered, hands folded in his lap as he picked at his nails anxiously.

"Nothin' to be sorry for, pup," Spike said, giving Connor's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "You're talking about things now. That's good. That's a part of healing."

_Healing… _Was that what this was? Was he healing on the inside like his scars had on the surface? But how could he be healing if he still felt so much pain? His heart still ached and itched profusely, the wounds still there. But that's what wounds did; they healed. They scabbed over, and they itched and ached, longing to be scratched, to be picked at. But that only made them worse, only made them bleed again, reopened and exposed to more pain. So much more pain. Much like the scabs on his wrists, self inflicted and sore.

Was he making himself hurt even worse?

"…Spike?"

"Yeah?" The vampire answered softly.

"You said… you said that I was important," Connor said tentatively, fingers itching at the marks on his left arm. "What did you mean?"

"I meant exactly what I said. That you're important. You're important to me, to Fred, to Gunn, to Lorne, and especially to your father," Spike said adamantly.

"Then why doesn't he ever want to see me anymore?" Connor asked meekly, fingernails digging into the flesh of his arm, a part of him hoping to draw blood.

"Because," Spike said pulling the volatile boy's hand away from his irritated flesh. "He's unsure of what to do. And when Angel is unsure, he runs away."

"…He's my dad," Connor said in a broken voice. "It shouldn't matter if he's unsure… I'm never sure of anything, and I don't run away. Not intentionally, at any rate."

"I know, puppy. I know," Spike said hugging Connor to his chest as the boy began to cry, ironically just as rain began to beat down upon them and the rooftop.

"You want to go back inside?" Spike asked him in a soothing tone.

"No," Connor whimpered quietly. "I just want my dad to care about me again."

"Is that what you think?" Connor jumped at the voice, wishing he could pretend that Angel wasn't there. "That I don't care about you anymore?"

"How long have you been eavesdropping?" Connor asked a bit coldly, eyes closed as he pulled away from Spike.

"Long enough," Angel said, gaze soft as he stared at his pitiful child that he hadn't seen in days.

"It doesn't matter what I think, _dad,_" Connor said, the last word drenched in bitterness just like his steadily beating heart was.

Bitterness and, hurt and, anger. That's what Connor felt as he finally looked up at his father with narrowed eyes, the icy orbs alight with pain.

"But it does, Connor," Angel said earnestly, making his way to sit in front of Connor as Spike stood up. "Everything you do, or say matters."

Connor merely huffed, glaring down at the concrete of the roof as his hands gripped his knees tightly, resisting the urge to scratch at his scabs when his father was there.

"I'm going to head back inside," Spike muttered, tossing his cigarette over the ledge, as the rain had put it out. "I'll give you two some time to talk privately."

Connor looked after Spike's retreating back, wide-eyed, not wanting to be alone with his father, afraid of what would be said.

"Why do you think I don't care about you?" Angel asked him after a moment of silence.

"Because you don't," Connor replied simply with a shrug of his shoulders, though, they both knew that Connor's nonchalance was entirely fake.

"But I do, Connor! You're my son, I love you more than I've ever loved anything else," Angel said, lifting Connor's chin with his hand, trying to look his child in the eye.

"No you don't!" Connor jerked away from Angel's touch. "If you did then you wouldn't have abandoned me! You wouldn't have left me all alone after what he did to me!"

"Connor, I'm-"

"No! You don't get to apologize. You can't possibly understand what I've been through," Connor yelled as he stood, rain pouring down on him. "What I had to go through, alone, because you didn't care enough to stay with me!"

"But I do care, son! I care so much," Angel insisted, trying to pull Connor into a hug, only to be harshly shoved away.

"Then why did you leave me?"

Angel was silent, eyes downcast, unsure of how to answer his son's question.

"Tell me!" Connor demanded, voice cracking as sob began to wrack his trembling body.

_Hopeless… _Connor thought. He felt it even more now. The hopelessness seeped into his body, into every fucking pore. Until he practically oozed it, he bled it. It was all he was. His own father couldn't even tell him the truth. Hell, he couldn't even come up with a decent lie. He just stood there, almost shocked, watching Connor fall to pieces before his very eyes.

Angel suddenly rushed towards the weeping boy, wrapping his arms around him before he finally spoke. "Because it's all my fault."

"W-What?" Connor asked, confused.

"It's all my fault that you feel this way. That he hurt you, that they both hurt you- that you hurt yourself," Angel told him, gripping his son tighter. "I wasn't there for you then, and I haven't been here for you now. I left you alone to deal with something that you couldn't possibly handle by yourself."

"Wha-" Connor tried to speak, but Angel shushed him continuing on with his explanation.

"And why? Because I felt guilty. I felt so entirely guilty that it hurt to look at you, my precious boy, the most important thing to me… I hurt you worse than they ever could by abandoning you, and I am so, so, so very sorry."

Connor stared up at his father, speechless. Angel felt guilty? Sure he had done Connor wrong, but what Angel did wasn't nearly as bad as what Connor had done to him in the past. Nor was it worse than what Holtz and Avery had done to him. No, not by a long shot.

"D-Dad," Connor murmured, eyes softening as his anger lessened by the second. "It's okay, dad."

"No, it's not, Connor."

"Yes, it is," Insisted Connor as he finally hugged his father back. "I forgive you, just like you've forgiven me for all of the horrid things that I've done."

Sighing, Angel pulled away from his son, staring into his eyes intently, trying to determine if he was being honest.

"I don't want to be angry anymore," Connor said. And he found that he really didn't. Anger towards Angel never lead to anything good. It only caused more despair in the end.

Angel nodded in understanding, and they sat there in a content silence, the rain drenching them from head to toe, but neither seemed to really care.

"I really like the rain," Connor commented quietly, tilting his head back, allowing the water to hit his face. "It was raining that night at the ocean, too."

"It was," Angel agreed. Watching as Connor's demeanor gradually relaxed.

"The rain washes away impurities, it cleanses the earth of mistakes," Connor said thoughtfully. "I… I think it could do that for us too, maybe."

"I think it could too." Angel said, pushing Connor's wet hair from his eyes. "I think it could too."

"Yeah…" Connor whispered softly, hoping more than anything that for once things could work out. And maybe, _just maybe,_ his pain, his anger, his past and, his resentment could finally dissipate; washed away and erased by the pure rain.

* * *

**A/N: I stayed up all night finishing the second part to this chapter, so I hope you all like it. I got put in the mood to write this after reading a particularly wonderful, depressing and, slightly hopeful Harry Potter fan fic. It was very inspiring, I don't know…**

**And I still plan on writing a continuation to "Wrong" if any of you have read that and were wondering. But seriously, though, why aren't there more Connor/Spike stories? I think they'd make an awesome couple, you know. *hint hint* Someone should go write them as a slash pairing and make me extremely happy :3**


	27. You might as well live

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**I don't think there are any warnings for this really.**

**A/N: Spike and Connor centric chapter :)**

* * *

The rain couldn't fix everything, Connor thought as he sat by his bedroom window shivering, holding a bandaged wrist. He didn't plan on doing it, really. It just… happened.

And that was what he told his father. Angel said nothing to him as he cleaned and wrapped up the fresh cuts, focusing intently on making sure that an infection wouldn't occur.

When he finally spoke, though, Connor wished he hadn't.

"_Go to your room." _He had said with finality and disappointment lacing each word. He wouldn't even meet Connor's gaze, eyes still locked on his injured arm.

Connor was a disappointment, he knew. But it still hurt each time that his dad reminded him of it. He didn't do it on purpose, at least Connor didn't think he did. But he could tell what Angel thought of him every time he would use that tone of voice, or have that certain expression on his face.

He was ashamed of Connor. And why shouldn't he be? Connor was useless. Worse than that, he was like a disease. He infected and spread, and consumed. He destroyed. But he didn't want to. He wanted so badly to be different. To be pure… To make his father proud of him for once.

He was trying. He promised himself he was. It was just hard. It was so hard to quit something that had become such a big part of his life. Something that provided an escape, something that gave his restless mind a sense of peace.

He had never known what peace felt like living in Quor'toth. And, though things were different in LA, he still hadn't experienced it. He found that the closest thing to peace was the feel of a blade slicing open his skin. The endorphin rush making everything seem okay, making him calm.

It was difficult to give it up. He'd grown attached to it, and according to his therapist, he was even addicted.

Such a silly thing to be addicted to, he thought. While others were addicted to drugs, cigarettes and, alcohol here he was, addicted to mutilating his own flesh.

"How fucked up," He whispered quietly, watching the rain pour down, slightly mesmerized by how perfect the world looked when it was dark and dreary.

He was set up to fail, he decided. How could anyone expect him to get better after everything he'd been through? How could they expect so much of him? Especially since they had taken away his only coping mechanism. How did _he _expect himself to get better?

He was just so weak and tired. He didn't think he had the will-power anymore.

But he was doing so well before. He had been three weeks cut free, and everyone seemed so happy about it. Everyone except for Connor. He was practically crawling out of his skin with anxiety. It was almost unbearable.

His mind was too loud, and always seemed to regress back to bad memories that he wished he could still forget. And to recent ones that he knew he never would. He was supposedly learning to deal with it in therapy. But if he was dealing with it, then why did it still hurt so much?

He wished it would stop hurting.

* * *

"He's still upset, you know?"

Connor didn't have to ask to know who Spike was talking about.

"Yeah, I figured," He said, as they walked side by side down the street.

Spike said Connor needed to get out more, that staying at the hotel twenty-four seven wasn't good for his mental health. Connor and his scarred wrists had to agree.

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" Spike asked him, pulling Connor into what appeared to be a café.

Connor sighed, looking around curiously at the dim-lighted place. "It wouldn't matter if I did."

"And why is that?"

"Because," Connor said, plopping down ungracefully into a booth. "He wouldn't get it."

"But how do you know that if you haven't tried?"

Connor dropped his gaze, instead deciding to read the café's menu. "I just… know, okay?"

Spike nodded his head, noting the finality in Connor's voice. "All right."

It wasn't as though Connor liked to be this moody. But he already had a therapist, he didn't need another one.

"I'm not really that hungry," Connor murmured as his thoughts began to stray to his father. It seemed that even if he escaped his home he still couldn't escape his problems.

"You don't have to eat if you're not up to it. That's not the main reason I brought you here," Spike said ocean blue eyes scanning the desert menu.

Connor looked up surprised. "Oh. Then what is?"

"That," Spike said, glancing up towards a small stage close to the counter where a petite girl had sat down in front of a microphone. She wore a name tag and an apron. Connor assumed that she worked there.

"Who's up for a little Dorothy Parker today?" She asked, ginger hair falling in front of her face. At the applause and few whistles she received, she smiled and said, "That's what I thought."

Clearing her throat, she stared off into the distance and began reciting a poem.

"Razors pain you;  
Rivers are damp;  
Acids stain you;  
And drugs cause cramp.  
Guns aren't lawful;  
Nooses give;  
Gas smells awful;  
You might as well live."

"That's…" Connor trailed off, trying to think of a fitting word. "Pretty," He finally decided on, watching as the girl began to recite another poem from memory.

Spike laughed, and Connor thought it was nice to hear him sound happy for a change. "Yes, it is very pretty."

They both listened as she recited poem after poem, each one from memory, and each one making Connor feel something he hadn't felt in a while, excited. He was excited to hear more, and learn more about this expression of creativity that he hadn't experienced before.

"And now," The girl said standing up from the stool. "I'd like to welcome one of our open mic regulars. Spike everyone!"

There was a round of applause as Spike made his way over to the small stage, hugging Aimee; Connor found her name was, as he passed her.

"Here's something I wrote a few years ago," Spike said, eyes lowered to the floor.

"My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,  
Midnight descends in raven-colored clothes,  
But soft… Behold!  
A sunlight beam  
Butting a swath of glimmering gleam.  
My heart expands,  
'Tis grown a bulge in it,  
Inspired by your beauty…  
Effulgent..."

* * *

"Wow…" Connor murmured as he and Spike finally left the café. "You're really good."

"Hardly," Spike said nonchalantly, staring up at the sky as he lit up a cigarette.

"No, really," Connor insisted, pulling at his sleeves nervously. "I wish I could be that good at something."

Spike sighed, the taste of nicotine fresh on his tongue. "You're good at a lot of things, Connor."

Connor rolled his eyes. "Really," He said sarcastically. "Name one thing."

Spike paused, taking a drag of his cigarette before he spoke. "Well, fighting for one. You might even be a better fighter than your father."

"That doesn't count," Connor said, brushing off the complement. "Anyone can learn to fight."

"True. But few could excel at it like you do."

"Whatever," Connor muttered, feeling self-conscious.

"You're not as worthless as you seem to think you are," Spike told him softly.

Connor was about to disagree but Spike didn't give him the chance.

"Come on," The blonde said suddenly, grabbing onto Connor's shirt sleeve and pulling him forward off the brick wall he was leaning on.

"Where're we going?" Connor asked wide-eyed.

"To find something you're good at," Spike replied simply.

* * *

_Something I'm good at… _Connor thought as he stared down at the mass amounts of art supplies that littered the kitchen table. After they left the café Spike dragged Connor to a store called Hobby Lobby. Connor found that he quite liked that place.

Spike told him to pick out whatever he wanted, and he would buy it for him. Connor didn't even know what to get, overwhelmed with everything the huge store had to offer.

So, Spike of course began grabbing anything that remotely interested him.

Once their cart was full and Spike paid, _with Angel's credit card_, they called a taxi and made their way home.

And so here Connor was now, still very much overwhelmed, eyes wide with indecision as he bit his lip and thought about what he wanted to try first.

"Here," Spike said after a few minutes of watching Connor struggle. "Just try your hand at sketching."

"Okay," Connor muttered quietly, taking the sketchbook and pencils from Spike's hands. Opening the book to the first page, he took out a 2B pencil and gazed at the blank paper with a thoughtful expression.

"What should I draw?" He asked, fidgeting with his pencil.

"Anything you want," Spike said with a smile. "That's the point of art."

"_Okay,_" Connor said as he took the pencil to the page. Unsure of what he would create, but knowing that it was okay, because like Spike said, he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted.

* * *

**A/N: I have no idea when I'm going to end this story -.- I had planned on making this chapter the last one, but as I was writing it, it just didn't feel like the last chapter, you know? I don't think Connor's character is evolved enough yet. I want to end with Connor making a lot of progress, but I don't want a sugary-sweet happy ending. Those can be nice, but I don't think it would be right for this story.**

**So, we'll just see what happens, I guess.**

**And Spike is making me want a cigarette… damn you Spike . And speaking of Spike, I had to google his poem because I couldn't remember it word for word. I thought it was a nice poem, though. His poetry as a vampire is much better than his poetry as a human.**


	28. Couldn't be helped

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**A/N: I know… I am a horrible human being who hasn't updated in literally a year. That being said, I hope you all don't hate me too much for this chapter…**

* * *

Angel knew he shouldn't be doing this. He did. But when it came to his son, that overbearing, paranoid, Mama Bear instinct Spike was always berating him about, kicked in.

He sighed, eyes staring, conflicted, at the wooden box placed unassuming in his lap. Connor wasn't very good at hiding things, Angel decided. - Always concealing things in the back of his closet, or beneath his bed.

How angry would Connor be when he found out about this? Immensely, Angel realized. But really? Could. Not. Be. Helped.

* * *

Connor should have known his day would go to shit. How could it not? It had started out so well.

He woke up, well rested and content, thoughts of harming himself barely even crossing his mind. He ate all of his food for once. Greeted Fred and Gunn, actually had a _pleasant _conversation with his dad, and then went on his merry way with Spike to Hobby Lobby to get some more art supplies.

_It had started out so well…_ he thought, eyes staring blankly at the scattered contents of his private box, laid out before him across the bed. _Why did this have to happen today?_

"Care to explain this?" It wasn't a question, Connor knew; it was a demand.

One he chose to ignore.

"You went through my things," He stated, voice devoid of emotion as he clutched his shopping bags to his chest, the feeling of exposure weighing heavy upon him.

"That doesn't matter, Connor," Angel snapped. He was angry, beyond angry, even. Connor could hear it in his voice, that stern tone beginning to edge in. "-What matters is that you have _these _under your bed!"

"I- I…" He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he took in the sight of the blades he'd extracted from a few box cutters. So many personal things had been stashed away within that box; his blades not even the worst of them.

He didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. And so he didn't. He just stared, wide-eyed with pure shock.

Angel was having none of it, though, his tolerance for Connor's behavior appearing to have finally ebbed away. "You what, Connor? You thought you could get away with it? You thought no one would notice when we saw you with freshly scarred wrists?"

Connor flinched at his father's words, feeling them sting him to his very core as he clutched the bags closer to himself. –Hugging them so tight, as if they could possibly shield him from the hurtful things that were being said.

"You can't keep doing this!" Angel continued, brown eyes alight with anger and beneath that, sadness and fear at the thought of losing his only son. "You can't keep hurting yourself this way! Do you not see what it's doing to you? What it's doing to everyone around you?"

Connor remained silent, blue eyes unblinking. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't get a word in edge wise to defend himself, Angel's voice unwavering.

"God," Angel said, fed up with Connor's unresponsive nature. "I don't even know what to do with you anymore."

And Connor couldn't stop what happened after that. He couldn't even if he tried.

What Angel said stung. It hurt like glass digging into his skin, only with this there was no relief after. The pain Connor felt at Angel's words was worse than any lashing Daniel had ever given him. And why? Why had simple words, _pointless little words_, caused such sorrow?

-Because this wasn't just any person spewing a mere insult at him. This was Connor's father, his _family. _And his father, who he both loved and despised at the same time, had looked him dead in the eye and confessed to have given up on him.

And honestly, Connor didn't want to be sad, he didn't want to feel the pain that was lingering beneath the surface. So he picked the emotion he knew almost as well; _anger._

Throwing the shopping bags to the floor, Connor's stance completely changed. His posture no longer that of a timid little boy, but of an enraged animal waiting for attack.

"You don't have to do anything with me," Connor practically snarled, eyes narrowed, and teeth slightly bared.

"You think I need you?" He asked stalking forward until he and Angel were almost chest to chest. "I didn't need you for sixteen years, you think I need you now?"

But Angel didn't falter, and on some level that scared Connor a little bit; flashes of what his "adoptive father" would do to him crossing his mind.

"Yeah, Connor, I do think you need me. Because if it wasn't for me you would've drowned in the ocean a year ago!"

And that's what made him snap, made him even lose his mind, maybe. And he _laughed. _He laughed with no real humor at all, just empty sound and despair filling the room.

"If it weren't for you I'd be happy! I'd be peacefully buried in the ground feeling _nothing! _No memories to weigh me down," He replied, uncaring of how his next sentence would haunt his father. "If it weren't for _you, daddy, _he never would have done that to me, and I never would have done _this _to myself!" Connor nearly yelled, pulling off his shirt and exposing the mass amount of scars that covered his torso and arms.

Connor knew his mistake before he even made it, but he couldn't take it back, and didn't even know if he wanted to as he watched Angel's face visibly crumble. -The anger draining from the vampire almost entirely.

And that was okay, because right now Connor had enough anger for the both of them.

"You think you help me?" Connor sneered, holding his father's gaze, determined now. "Keeping me alive against my will, that doesn't help me."

Angel was silent, stricken, with what, Connor did not know.

"You make my life worse than it has to be. You bring up things I'd like nothing more than to forget, you _ignore me _half the time, and if you're not doing that you're going through _my _personal things," Connor had no right, he had no right to spew such venom at his father, but he couldn't stop. It had been building for so long, and now his deepest darkest thoughts were spilling from his tongue and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Stepping away from the vampire, the man, the monster he called 'dad' he picked up a stack of his once hidden drawings, shoving them in Angel's face.

"This," He said, holding up a sketch of a little boy hanging, limp from a rotting tree. "This is what I used to think about as a child."

"And this," He continued, leafing through the pages in his hand. The next drawing of a boy with no face, body covered in scars, and wrists slit vertically, marking the obvious intent to kill. "This is what I dreamt about at night, lulling myself to sleep with this image in my head when it was clear you were never coming to get me."

His voice was becoming strained now, the sorrow creeping up and beginning to extinguish the rage he was trying desperately to cling to. "This, this right here, dad," He rasped, unshed tears stinging his eyes. "This is what happened to me…" He trailed off, emotions washing over him before he could control it.

"This is what was done to me when I couldn't defend myself. And it can't ever be undone," He whispered with finality, before he turned away, hurriedly rushing out of the room. Leaving Angel there, alone, with nothing but his thoughts, and a picture of a little boy crying as he lay, naked on all fours, a man standing maliciously behind him.

* * *

Why did it always end with him crying?

If he could get rid of his feelings, rip out his putrid emotions, he would do it in a heartbeat. No second thoughts, just relief.

Would anyone come looking for him? He wondered, as he ran across the pavement, taking the back roads to his old loft.

_No, _he thought, they wouldn't look for him. Not after all of the damaging things he said- the damaging things he'd done.

He wasn't thinking clearly. All his mind could think was; _rage,rage,rage,rage,rage._

It wasn't right, _he_ wasn't right. There was a special place in hell reserved for Connor, and he knew that whatever fate he was met with, _surely even worse than his scarring past_, he would deserve it.

He gasped, lungs burning as he struggled for breath. Running five miles while crying hysterically not his best idea, but it was okay. He welcomed the tightness in his chest and the ache in his tired knees.

* * *

Finally, _finally _hecollapsed, allowing himself to take in a minimal amount of comfort as his shaking form hit his old stolen mattress.

He couldn't do this anymore. It wasn't fair to anyone, least of all Angel.

…_Angel._

He let out a choked sob at the thought of his father. The broken look on his face engraved forever in his mind. And he had caused it. He promised he wouldn't hurt Angel anymore, and what had he done? He broke his promise.

-He ruined everything.

He could play the victim all he wanted, he thought bitterly, but he was just as much a monster as the people who betrayed him. Maybe even more so.

Because all Connor could think as he lay a whimpering, shivering mess on his dusty bed was,

_I just wanted you to hurt like I do…_

* * *

**A/N: See? You hate me now don't you? -.- I should really quit dragging out this story… I haven't been sleeping much lately, though. And when I can't sleep I write. So hopefully I'll finish up this story in the near future.**

**As always, constructive criticism is welcomed :) **


	29. Unease

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel.**

**Warnings: Language. Because what teenager doesn't curse now days?**

* * *

Connor groaned as someone gently shook his shoulder until he was fully awake. Rolling over onto his back, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the events of the day came flooding back to him.

_God, _what did he do?

"You know," Spike drawled, his hand still resting on Connor's shoulder. "I'm gettin' real tired of you and the poof's antics."

"I'm sorry." Connor opened his eyes, regretting his decision immediately as he saw the troubled expression on his best friend's face. Shoving himself up into a sitting position, he sighed. "How bad is it?"

"Bad."

"_Fuck me,_" Connor cursed, running a hand nervously through his long hair. He shouldn't have said those things, he knew. But once he started he couldn't stop, and it had been building up for a long time. He was at a breaking point with Angel, and he finally broke down and said all that he needed to. Because yeah, he _needed _to say those things, but maybe he should have saved his bitter words for his therapist instead of his flesh and blood?

Spike hummed around the cigarette in his mouth as he lit it quickly, that expression still firmly on his face. "We'll work it out," Spike murmured as he exhaled smoke.

"How?" Connor whined, his eyes reflecting the hopelessness he felt. "I've taken it too far this time. The things I said… I hurt him, Spike- I hurt him bad."

"You did." Spike nodded. "And he's hurt you too. I'd say you're pretty even."

"No." Connor stood up and stretched, his eyes lingering on the nicotine stick held between Spike's fingers. "I don't think we'll ever be even. I've done too much wrong."

Spike snorted. "You can never do more _wrong _than a vampire, pup."

Frowning, he shook his head. "I'm not so sure…"

"I am," The bleached blonde said, holding his cigarette out towards the sulking boy. "Here."

"What?"

"Take it," Spike said rolling his eyes. "Just don't tell Angel 'bout it, he'll have my balls in a vice."

Connor hesitated. "You're sure?"

"Take it before I change my mind."

Connor did. Bringing the cigarette up to his lips, he sucked in a lung full of smoke, quickly coughing as he tried to exhale. "Shit," he muttered as he attempted to regain his composure before he tried again. Holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment he released his breath slowly, feeling the buzz the nicotine gave him. He looked up to find Spike smirking at him.

"You like that, don't you?"

Connor merely nodded, taking another drag. "I see why you smoke these so much."

"Yeah, well, don't get too attached 'cause lord knows your father won't let you smoke."

Silence filled the room as Spike watched the teenager smoke his cigarette contently, before finally the vampire spoke. "I think I know how to get you and Papa Bear on good terms again."

Connor stood up a little straighter, curious and eager as he dropped the butt of the cigarette on the floor and stomped it out. "What do you have in mind?"

"You might not like my idea…"

"Spike," Connor pleaded. "I'll do whatever I need to, I promise."

"All right then." Spike took a deep breath. "I think that you should take him to therapy with you."

Connor paused, unsure. "Do you mean like, have him take me, or have him sit in on my sessions?"

"I mean," Spike started, pulling out another smoke for himself. "That he should be in the session with you, and you know, participate."

"I dunno…"

"I think it'll be good for you two. And truth be told I can't handle your spats alone anymore."

"Sorry…" Connor looked down, ashamed. He never wanted to burden Spike. He deserved better than that. "I… I think that maybe it's a good idea."

"Great!" Spike clapped Connor playfully on the shoulder before bringing the anxious boy into a hug. "I've already discussed it with him and he's agreed to go."

"You did?" Connor pulled back, shock evident on his face. He thought it would be a cold day in hell before Angel agreed to go into therapy. But maybe this meant that his dad wanted to try, that he wanted to fix things between them still.

"Yep." Spike appeared rather smug. Connor supposed if he got Angel to do something like that he would too. "Your appointment is tomorrow."

Oh. Oh no. That was too soon. Everything was still too fresh on his mind. "Tomorrow as in twenty-four hours from now?"

"Yes. And don't you give me that look you're not getting out of it," Spike said sternly. Which really? That didn't suit him at all, Connor thought. "It's best to start as soon as possible."

"I guess…"

"Everything will be okay, pup."

Connor bit his lip, hoping beyond hope that Spike was right.

"…Spike?"

"Yeah?"

Connor fidgeted, unsure for a moment before he asked, "Can I have another cigarette?"

Spike grinned, pulling one out of his pack and lighting it up before handing it over to the eager looking boy.

Sighing as the smoke left his lungs, Connor tried to be positive and think good thoughts about tomorrow. But it was hard when experience told him that nothing good ever worked out for him. Squashing down his doubt, he took a drag and tried to calm himself. Because honestly, nothing good ever came out of him over analyzing things.

* * *

**A/N: It's been sooooo long since I last updated this and I am very, **_**very **_**sorry to keep you all waiting. I was going to finish the rest of this story all at once, but Aramlis suggested that I just keep updating whenever I can. So this happened. I'll be working on this story as often as I can.**

**And I know I'm not the only one who had a terrible coughing fit the first time they ever smoked a cigarette, so I felt that Connor needed that awkward rite of passage as well. Seriously, though, don't smoke, you'll regret it someday.**

**And I have currently begun watching Shameless (US) and I am addicted. It is a fucking great show. I am a proud Ian/Mickey shipper, and I definitely suggest you guys watch it.**

**Also, I was reading over the wonderful reviews you all have left me (because they motivate me) and narglesstar032 asked me how I thought Cordy raped Connor because I've mentioned that in notes before. Since they weren't signed in I'll reply here.  
I agree, Cordy was not in control of her body, however, it was a disturbing thing to see. She was like his mom at one point, and the way he was manipulated was very sad. He just wanted someone to love him, and he was taken advantage of. Jasmine did rape Connor, but with Cordelia's body. The imagery just made me a little uneasy with her for a while. Hopefully that answered your question.**

**Thanks for reading! **


	30. Bonding time

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel.**

**Warnings: Language. Though, by now you should expect that. **

* * *

**A/N: This is an Angel – Connor centric chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

"How are you feeling today, Connor?" Dr. Jasik asked, his notepad propped up against his knee.

"Okay," Connor murmured quietly as he pressed himself closer to the arm of the couch and further away from Angel.

Dr. Jasik nodded. "And you, Angel?"

Angel's eyes widened and Connor had to refrain from smirking at his father's uncomfortable posture. At least he wasn't the only one who felt awkward. "I am fine," Angel answered tensely.

The therapist sighed. "All right, Connor, why don't you tell me why you're both here?"

"Because…" Connor shrugged. "Because me and Angel don't really talk anymore, I guess."

"And why don't you two talk?"

Glancing over at Angel, Connor saw the sad look in his father's eyes. "Because we're always fighting…"

Dr. Jasik hummed. "And why do you think that is?"

"I dunno…"

"Okay. How about you tell me what started your last fight?"

Connor shifted a little on the plush couch. "Well, he went through my things…"

"Why did he go through your things?"

"To see if I had blades, I suppose," Connor said bitterly.

"And did you?"

Nodding, Connor slumped in his seat, feeling ashamed. Logically he knew this would come up, but he was still hoping to avoid it. He hadn't really planned on using his blades, but he doubted that his therapist or Angel would believe him.

Dr. Jasik paused, scribbling something down on his notepad. "And Angel, how did it make you feel when you found Connor's razors?"

"Terrible." Angel frowned, brown eyes softening as they landed on his son. "Guilty."

"Why did you feel guilty?"

And Connor wanted to know that as well. Why would _him _having razorblades make his dad feel guilty? Shouldn't Connor be the one feeling guilty for even having them in the first place?

"Because I couldn't help him when he was a baby, and now he's been through so much pain, so much pain that he would resort to something like that. And I can't help him." Angel gripped his arms that were crossed against his chest I little harder. "I don't know how."

Connor exhaled, shock filling him as his heart began to beat faster. "I didn't know you felt that way…"

Turning to look at his son, Angel sighed. "Of course I feel that way. It's like you said, Connor, I wasn't there for you, I didn't save you. And now this is all my fault."

"No it's not." Furrowing his brow, Connor tried to fight off the shame that was coursing its way through his veins, through his very soul. He had said those things, sure. At the time he'd maybe even meant them. But here and now, with his father looking so sad and helpless, Connor found that everything he'd said was untrue. "I was upset with you for invading my privacy… for yelling at me, for giving up on me… Fuck, dad, I'm not even sure anymore. But it's not _your _fault."

"I never gave up on you," Angel said adamantly. "And it is. I've known it was my fault since the moment I lost you, since the moment I got you back."

Connor shook his head. "_No it's not._" His eyes bore into Angel's, willing him to see the truth. "It's _his _fault. It's Daniel's. He started this whole thing. He _broke_ me, dad, he _ruined _me. Not you… it was never you…"

"You're not broken." Angel sat up straighter, moving closer to his son. "Is that what you think? Because it's not true."

"It feels true," Connor said quietly, trying to keep the tears quickly filling his eyes, at bay.

"It isn't, son."

Connor merely shrugged, not willing to believe Angel's reassurances.

"I see what I've done wrong now." Gripping Connor's chin gently, Angel forced his son to look at him. "I haven't been there for you recently, and when I was, I was too harsh. I'm sorry, Connor. I'm sorry for everything that was my fault, and for the things that weren't. But I'm going to change. I'm going to help you in any way that I possibly can. I promise."

Connor swallowed back his tears, desperately not wanting to cry. "I'm sorry too, dad."

"I know, Connor, I know." Angel smiled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. Connor smiled back.

"Wonderful!" Connor jumped at the sound, forgetting for a moment where they were, and who they were with.

"I never expected a breakthrough so quickly," Dr. Jasik said, writing on his yellow notepad with a small smile on his green face. "Although, I still recommend seeing _both _of you together every few months, I believe it will help your relationship."

"Of course," Angel said. And Connor could see it. He could see determination written clear on his father's face, he could see it in the stern set of his shoulders. And in an odd way, Connor felt relieved.

He wanted Angel's help. He didn't care if Angel was still overprotective, if he never left him alone again. He wanted his dad to love him. He wanted Angel's attention, he realized. He wanted a relationship with him; a good one. He didn't want to keep going on like they had been. He wanted that change Angel had spoken of, he wanted it bad. And he was willing to work as hard as he needed to in order to make that change finally happen.

Connor was shaken from his thoughts as he saw Angel and Dr. Jasik stand. Assuming the session was over, he stood as well.

"I'll see you next week, Connor," His therapist said.

"Okay," Connor muttered, as he and Angel made their way to the office door. "I'll see you then."

At first therapy had seemed like a terrible idea. But now, after all the progress he had made personally, and the progress he had made with Angel, he was really glad he went through with it.

* * *

This wasn't exactly how Connor pictured their _'bonding time'. _

Angel had attempted to take him to a hockey game, much to Connor's chagrin. He tried to pretend that he liked the sport, but honestly, Connor didn't like any type of sports – Unless you counted slaying demons as a sport. In which case, he fucking loved the rush it gave him.

But hockey was different. It was boring to watch a bunch of men skate around the ice, smashing into each other and, trying to hit the puck into the goal. It was pointless, Connor thought. The way they tried to prove their manhood with violence.

Though, not too long ago he tried to prove himself a man the same way.

But Connor knew better now. He knew that violence didn't make you a man; your character and how you handled things did. –_Connor still wasn't a man._

"_You don't like this do you?" Angel had asked him, brows furrowed in that brooding expression only Angel could manage._

_Connor had frowned; disappointed that he couldn't act more enthusiastic for his father. "I mean… I like it okay."_

_Angel sighed, shoulders seeming to sag slightly. "You don't have to lie, Connor. I want us to do something that you'll enjoy – not suffer through."_

_Connor bit his lip contemplatively before he spoke. "Well, can we leave then? We could just go walk around the shopping district maybe?"_

Angel had agreed, and so that's how they wound up here, in the small comic book store. Angel looked incredibly uncomfortable, but then again, when didn't he?

Running his fingers across the spines of different Manga, Connor read the title of every one until he found one that piqued his interest. The cover read 'Death Note' and after reading the premise of the story Connor decided that it was something he would like to read.

Flipping to the first page Connor quickly discovered how amazing the artwork was. He'd never really seen anything like it before, and briefly he wondered if he could ever draw something like this. "Wow…" He muttered quietly to himself.

"Do you want to get it?" Angel asked him, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Do you want to get it?" Angel repeated, nodded towards the book in Connor's hands. "I'll buy it for you if you want it."

Connor flipped the book shut, suddenly holding it a little tighter than was necessary. He couldn't help it, though, he was nervous. He wasn't sure why other than the fact that, his dad buying him a book, or anything really, was just such a normal thing to do. Normality felt weird, which didn't make any sense to Connor, but still, it felt odd.

"You sure?" He asked tentatively.

"Of course." Angel looked a little offended, and for the life of him Connor couldn't figure out why. "I'll get you whatever you want, you just have to tell me what it is."

Nodding, Connor swallowed and handed the book over to Angel when he held his hand out expectantly.

"You ready to go, or do you want to look around some more?"

"We can go," Connor said, and followed Angel as the vampire made his way to the register at the front of the store.

As Angel placed the book on the counter and waited for the teen behind it to ring him up, Connor gazed at all the posters that were hung on the walls. It was the first time he really noticed them, and he couldn't help but to find them intriguing. Most were brightly colored, but all seemed to have a common theme; super heroes. People who fought for a world they truly believed in, a world they believed they could make better.

Connor used to think that the world could change, but he'd long since abandoned that theory.

"You look really familiar," The teen behind the register said, his brows knitted together as he swiped Angel's credit card, and studied Angel closely.

Connor's eyes locked onto Angel, wondering where he would have met this guy before.

"That's odd," Angel said, accepting his card back, and stuffing it into his wallet. "I don't think I've seen you around."

The kid continued to stare at his father, until suddenly realization seemed to hit him and he smiled. "I know!" He turned around and pulled out a comic from a box on the floor. "You're cosplaying _Angel _aren't you?"

"What?" Connor asked, eyes narrowing at the kid in front of him.

"Here," The boy said, handing the comic over to Connor.

And sure enough, there on the cover was a pretty realistic drawing of his father and above that the title; '_Angel; The Dark Avenger'._

Connor smirked as he scanned through the pages. Tossing the comic onto the counter Connor glanced at Angel, he wasn't surprised to see embarrassment on his features. "We'll take this too."

And Angel didn't argue with him.

* * *

"I can't believe there's a comic about you!" Connor exclaimed, not for the first time that night. Leaning back in his chair, Connor marked his place with a slip of paper and set the book down on the kitchen table.

"I figured everyone would have forgotten about it by now," Angel mumbled, adding the macaroni to the boiling water in front of him. "I found out about it a few years ago."

"But, like," Connor began, eyes trained on his father. "How do people even _know _about you? Aren't you supposed to be somewhat secretive?"

Angel sighed, turning around to face Connor. "I don't know. I assume someone I've helped wrote it?" Angel crossed his arms, appearing to grow tired of this conversation. "Besides, it doesn't matter. It's not like anyone will believe that comic is real."

Connor merely shrugged.

"So," Angel said after a moment of silence. "Do you want to do something again tomorrow?"

Biting his lip, Connor looked at his dad, then down to the comic before him. This wasn't how he'd envision them spending time together, but honestly, maybe this was better.

He thought maybe they'd go hunt demons together; something they were both comfortable with. But here they were instead – doing _normal things _like a normal family. It was so fucking bizarre, but tonight was probably one of the best nights Connor's ever had. He barely even thought about self-harm. He barely even thought about his scars. And on top of all that, he was learning things about his dad that he never knew before.

Smiling slightly, Connor nodded his head and said, "Yeah, dad. I'd like that."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews you guys keep giving this story! They really mean a lot to me!**

**And have any of you read the Angel: After The Fall comics? If not I suggest you do. And after you finish those you should read Angel: Immortality For Dummies. It takes place after 'After The Fall' and it's very Connor Centric! **

**Thanks for reading :) **


	31. Mundane

**Disclaimer: I do not own Angel or any of its characters.**

**Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, sexual abuse, and self-harm.**

* * *

_It's not like I'm actually going to do it_. Connor told himself as he stared, fixated at the kitchen knife held tightly in his hand. Did he think about it? _Obviously._ Was he going to do it? _No. _It was just hard sometimes… It was hard to look around at things that were supposed to be normal, and the only thing he could think about was how he could use them to hurt himself; how it could make him bleed.

But he _was not _going to do it.

Connor exhaled softly, his grip loosening on the knife's handle. He blinked a few times as if to clear away his troubled thoughts, and he brought the knife back up to the cutting board and continued to slice the tomato for his sandwich.

Finally done with the knife, he threw it in the sink as if touching it burnt his flesh.

Connor walked out of the kitchen with a turkey sandwich, and a sense of pride in himself.

* * *

Things were different from how Connor thought they'd be…

When he climbed through that portal, when he _escaped _from that hell, he never imagined that things would be this way. He never expected things to be so… normal.

It wasn't bad, Connor decided. It just wasn't what he was used to.

Switching to an 8B graphite pencil, he started to go over the sketch he had drawn. It was him when he was little, maybe six years old, and he looked up, smiling, at the person holding his hand. That person was Angel.

Sighing, Connor paused, his hand hovering thoughtfully above the paper. He wished he had real pictures of him and his dad like this, but he didn't. How could he? Angel didn't raise him. _Daniel did._

_A fine job he did, too. _He thought bitterly. He was just a perfect example of stability and sanity.

"What you got there?"

Connor's head snapped up at the sound of Spike's voice, the vampire startling him out of his thoughts. Flipping the sketch book shut he quickly replied, "Nothing."

Spike merely raised an eyebrow at him as he walked further into the room. "You sure?"

Connor smiled slightly, relaxing against the headboard of his bed. "Yeah."

"Hmm…"

"What?" Connor asked as Spike sat down beside him.

"I dunno," Spike said, his hands inching towards Connor's book. "It seems to me like you're hiding something."

Connor rolled his eyes. "Well, Spike, whatever could _I _have to hide?"

"You little shit," Spike said good-naturedly. Snatching up the sketchbook before Connor could react; he flipped to the most recent page. "_Wow…_" He murmured, eyes roving over every inch of the drawing. He was surprised at how realistic it looked, how much like a photograph. Connor had only been drawing for a few months and he was already this good. _You couldn't learn something like that._ Spike thought. No, that was shear talent.

"It's not finished yet," Connor said, fiddling with the bed sheets nervously. "It'll look better once it's finished." It always made him nervous when someone looked at his sketches. He worried that they wouldn't like them, or that they would find them odd. Because honestly, most of his drawings were. They were hectic, and sometimes gory. Just like Connor.

"What are you talking about?" Spike asked, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "It's perfect the way it is."

Connor was blushing, he could tell by the flushed feeling creeping up his neck and to his face. "It's not perfect… It's not even done yet."

"Well, fine, pup. If you say it's not perfect then it's not perfect."

"Thanks… I think."

Spike grinned. "No problem."

"…You're weird, Spike."

Spike made an indignant noise in the back of his throat. Pointing to Connor he said, "Pot," then gestured to himself. "Kettle."

"I know," Connor sighed, rolling his eyes. He was definitely the weirdest one in his family. _The black sheep, more like… _He thought.

"Hey, Spike?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you…" Connor cut himself off, gnawing on his bottom lip lightly. "Could you not tell Angel about that picture?"

Spike looked up from the drawing, confusion written clearly across his face. "Sure… Do you want to tell me why, though?"

Connor shook his head. "Not really."

Spike nodded in understanding before he began to flip through different pages of Connor's book.

"Spike?"

"Yes?"

Connor side-eyed Spike, as he made a conscious attempt to stop fidgeting. "Will you… Will you get me a pack of cigarettes?"

Spike just stared.

He stared and, he stared and, honestly it was making Connor unnerved. So much for not fidgeting.

"You're serious?" Spike asked dubiously.

"Well…" Connor said quietly, eyes downcast. "Yeah."

This was a bad idea, he realized. He just wanted something to replace cutting; something to take the edge off, to relieve the anxiety that he still felt. Sure he was making progress now, however small it may be. But he wasn't sure that he could keep resisting that urge to take a blade to his skin. He didn't think he was that strong.

God, he just felt so fucking stupid now. _Spike _probably thought he was stupid for even asking this of him.

Just when he was about to tell Spike to forget about it, that he was just kidding, Spike spoke.

"Why do want the cigarettes? And it'll help your case to be honest with me."

What was he supposed to say? That sometimes the nightmares would close in on him and he couldn't breathe? That it was _still _difficult to look at a sharp object and not want to hurt himself with it? That he just needed an escape?

"It just…" He gripped the sheets beneath him, eyes seeking out Spike's dark blue ones. "It just gets really hard sometimes, and I… I need a way to deal with it… A way that doesn't involve tearing apart my flesh, you know?"

Spike's brow furrowed in a way that Connor knew meant he was actually thinking about it. Holy shit, he was actually considering it, and Connor just could not believe it.

"Okay…" Spike said slowly after a few moments. "I'll start buyin' you some."

"Really?" Connor grinned at Spike, and surged forward to envelop him in a quick hug.

Spike sighed, wrapping his arms around Connor to return the embrace. "Yeah, really…"

He pulled back, eyes narrowed as he looked at Connor. "You don't tell Angel about this."

Connor shook his head, long hair flying everywhere. "I won't, Spike. Thank you for doing this."

Spike smiled, placed the sketchbook back on the bed and, stood up. "Anything for you, pup."

Spike made it to the door before he turned around, his 'stern look' on his face. "I'm serious, though. Angel cannot know about me supplying his underage kid with smokes, you got it?"

"He won't find out, Spike," Connor said adamantly. "I promise."

Promises weren't Connor's strong suit, but he was getting better about a lot of things now, and he hoped that promises would be one of those things.

* * *

"_I do this because of you, Steven," Daniel told him afterwards– After _it _he always liked to talk. "Because of this _monster _you were born into."_

_Steven wished he'd be quiet… He wished he would just leave him so he could cry without being punished for it. But he was thirteen now; much too old to be crying over something like this._

_But it _hurt. _It hurt so badly, and it hurt everywhere. He ached even after his body began to heal itself, even though Steven really didn't want it to. He didn't want to heal; he wanted to die, right then and there. Could he even die? He didn't know. So instead he lie there, naked, in the dirt, and pretended that he wasn't alive, that he couldn't hear the nasty words that Daniel spat at him._

"_Did you hear me, boy?" Daniel hissed. And suddenly there was a sharp pain in Steven's already bruised side as Daniel kicked him, hard. _

_Steven couldn't help but to cry out. "Yes, sir! I'm sorry, sir!"_

"_Don't take that weak tone with me, Steven," Daniel warned, looming above Steven dangerously._

_Steven swallowed hard as he gazed up at the man that he called _Father, _making an effort to control his ragged breathing. "Yes, Father… I'm sorry."_

"_Good." Daniel backed away from him then, moving to sit down with his back pressed against the cave wall. "Now, put your clothes on. You have to go hunting; we're out of food."_

"_Yes, Father," Steven replied. Slowly getting up from the ground and grabbing his clothes, he tried not to wince from the pain shooting up his spine. _

_Once his clothes were on he collected his weapons and made his way to the mouth of the cave, silently willing himself not to cry._

"_Steven…"_

_He stopped when he heard his 'Father' calling out to him._

"_Yes, Father?"_

"_I only do these things because I love you, Steven."_

_Steven bit his lip as he hurried to get away from this man. This man who said he loved him, but treated him like he was nothing, like he was worthless, like he was a disease. _

_Steven ran._

_He ran and, ran until he couldn't take it anymore. Until he stopped, back hunched over with his hands placed on his knees– And he cried._

* * *

Realistically Connor knew that hypnotherapy was not going to be easy. He _knew _that having Dr. Jasik go into his subconscious mind like that to get those kind of memories was not going to be a walk in the fucking park. Even so, he hadn't expected to feel this badly afterwards.

But he agreed to this, he _wanted _to do it. And if he was being honest, the main reason was because Angel could be there in the room while Connor described his past in great detail, and Connor didn't have to be aware of it. He didn't have to experience telling his dad these things. Because he had tried a few times, and he hated to see that guilty look on his dad's face. His dad didn't deserve to feel that way.

But it _hurt _now. Like an open wound. It hurt so goddamn much, and he didn't want to feel any of it.

Blinking slowly, he began to sit up. Angel tried to catch his gaze, but Connor didn't want to see what would be lurking within his dad's beseeching eyes.

"Would you like to talk about it, Connor?" Dr. Jasik asked him, a sympathetic tone to his voice.

Connor shook his head, eyes roving the floor anxiously. "Is it… Is it okay if we just go home? I-I just want to go home now."

Silence before finally his therapist answered him.

"Of course you can go home, Connor," The therapist assured him. "We can talk about this in your next session, or we can talk about whatever you want then. Whatever makes you comfortable."

"Okay," Connor said meekly, standing and quickly making his way out the door, not even waiting for Angel before he hightailed it out of the office.

Once he was in the parking lot Connor leaned against Angel's car with a sigh. He wasn't sure he could do this… He wasn't sure if he could _deal _with this. He needed his blades.

_No. _Connor thought. _I'm not going back to that._

Biting his lip, Connor thought about the pack of cigarettes he had stashed in a hollowed out book in his room. He could have Angel run out and get him some fast food so he could smoke. Angel would undoubtedly do it. He'd become incredibly helpful and willing to do just about anything Connor wanted recently. If Connor was to find a word for it, he would go as far as to say that Angel was _coddling _him.

Oddly enough, Connor found that he was okay with that. And why wouldn't he be? He'd never had that before.

"You ready to go, kiddo?"

Connor glanced up, eyes finally meeting Angel's. He saw nothing but concern.

"Yeah, Dad, I am."

* * *

Connor shivered as he made his way out onto the roof of the hotel. Pulling the hood of his red hoodie over his head, he looked down over the edge.

'_Don't look down.'_

That's what everyone always said about heights; that you shouldn't look down. But Connor didn't understand why. To him it was incredibly humbling. It was humbling to peer over the edge of that roof and realize that, yes, falling from this height probably could kill him.

It was beautiful.

Taking a cigarette and a lighter out of his pack, he quickly placed the cigarette between his lips. Inhaling while he lit it, Connor wondered how long he had before Angel would be back. His dad would be furious if he found out that Connor was smoking, especially when he found out that Spike was his 'supplier' or as Angel would probably call him, his _enabler. _

But Spike wasn't doing anything wrong. He just wanted Connor to get better, and was helping him in any way that he knew how.

_And this was definitely helping._ Connor thought.

Exhaling smoke Connor sat down a few feet away from the edge with his legs crossed. He wasn't stupid. He knew that smoking was bad for him; he knew that it caused diseases and affected his lungs. But he healed so rapidly, much faster than an average human, so odds were his lungs healed themselves before any major damage could be done. And as for the diseases… Well, he would deal with that if it ever happened.

Because all Connor really cared about was right here and now. He couldn't think too hard about the future –A few months ago he didn't even think he would _have _a future. And now he did, and it was scary. He didn't want to think about it.

Taking another drag, he stretched his legs out, feet dangling off the building, and laid back.

Life was weird, Connor decided. But he found that he wanted to be here, despite the pain and, the memories. He wanted to be here, and he made a promise to himself right then and there, that he would try his hardest to stay.

* * *

"Thanks for going out and getting this, Dad," Connor said before taking a bite of his burger. He had had just enough time to smoke a cigarette before Angel had gotten back home. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to shower to get rid of the smell of smoke before Angel returned, but thankfully he had had time.

"You're welcome." Angel smiled at him from across the kitchen bar. "Are you… Are you feeling any better?"

Connor chewed slowly, considering how to answer his dad. On the one hand, he did feel a little better than he did at the therapist's office, but on the other… Well, he didn't think he would honestly ever feel one hundred percent better about what happened to him. He decided to go with the easiest answer.

"Yeah, a little bit."

"That's good. I'm glad."

And Connor could tell that Angel was. He was glad that Connor was getting better, that he was being honest, that he trusted Angel enough _to be _honest with him.

"I'm really proud of you, Connor," Angel said after a moment of silence. "You know that, right?"

Connor dropped his burger down in the open wrapper, mouth still slightly agape from where he was about to take another bite. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. He knew that Angel loved him, yes, but he never expected his dad to be _proud _of him. What could he possibly be proud of?

"What?" Connor asked disbelievingly. "_Why?_"

Angel's brow furrowed. "Because you're doing so well, Connor. You haven't hurt yourself in such a long time, and you've been opening up to me more." As Connor shook his head, Angel continued more adamantly. "You're growing as a person, son. You're getting better_. You are._ And I love you, and I'm proud of you regardless of whether or not you believe it."

Connor stared up at his dad, and as he did he wondered why he ever tried to fight his relationship with him in the first place. Because Angel was being truthful, Connor could see it in his eyes.

"Thanks, Dad," He mumbled, trying not to get over-emotional. "I love you, too."

He didn't miss the way that Angel's eyes lit up at that, he just pretended not to notice.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's been months since I've updated. I have been extremely busy though.**

**I hope you all like this chapter. I kind of just wanted it to be Connor in everyday life for the most part. Like, him just doing mundane things and how those things can be a struggle for someone battling with self-harm.**

**And I looked up Hypnotherapy and I read that it's actually not the best thing for recovering memories because there's a chance that it can cause fake memories. But it just fit the story so I went with it. **

**I'm not sure if I want this to be the last chapter or not. I've thought about doing one more, but I kind of like how this would end things, like Connor is still a work in progress. Because he is. Even if this is the last chapter there is still a possibility that I'll write a few one shots to go with it. **

**Let me know what you think?**

**And thank you guys for all the reviews! They're probably one of the main reasons I didn't just give up on this fic.**


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